


Together

by Sioux



Series: Tied [2]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sioux/pseuds/Sioux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Tied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together

Together  
By Sioux

 

 

Leaning his face against the glass partition Jim could feel the faint vibration of the air filtration system pumping filtered air into the white, clean room beyond. White was the world through the glass; white dressing covering the bullet crease on Sandburg’s temple, blue/white puffy eyes, white face, white pillow cases and white sheets, white gown and white wires disappearing into the neckline recording his heart and respirations, playing back on the white backed monitors.  
The puffy skin around Sandburg’s eyes was the only remaining sign from the allergic reaction to the last dose of antibiotics the hospital had tried to pump into him for his pneumonia, before they found his immune system was compromised and put him in the clean room.  
He looked lost in the bed. Sandburg had never been a big guy, but he had always been fit, wiry and strong. Now he looked skeletal; the bones at his temple standing out in stark relief, along with the grey hollows under his cheekbones. Jim knew he had seen healthier looking corpses. He curled his hands into fists. He was physically aching from his desperate need to touch his Guide. His skin itched, he was edgy and more bad-tempered than usual. 

Entering the viewing area Sarah saw Captain Banks sitting with Jim, a red haired man she didn’t know sitting on his other side. When Jim caught sight of her, he leaned forward and whispered something to Banks. Both men stood up and walked away.  
Jim didn’t bother looking up when he heard Sarah come and quietly stand next to him looking at Blair.

“Do you have it?” Jim asked.

She nodded. “Has there been any change?”

“Only for the worse. What are you waiting for?” he hissed, as she still hesitated.

“Jim, this might kill him!” she said softly.

“If it doesn’t pneumonia will, or if by some miracle he survives that, the next infection will. What’s your professional prognosis, Doctor?”

Sarah sniffed again and wiped her eyes before replying,

“He’s dying.”

“If he’s going to die anyway, that isn’t going to make much difference but it might give him a chance,” Jim said quietly to her.

Still she hesitated.

“Give it to me!” he ordered quietly, holding his hand out for the syringe.

She shook her head.

“No, I’ll do it. They’ll notice you going in there, I’m just another Doctor.”

Quickly she went to the preparation room next door to the clean room and got changed, keeping the syringe with her. A few minutes later Jim saw her enter the clean room and make her way to Blair’s side. Without fuss she injected the full contents of the syringe into the IV port. Pausing to stroke his hair back, Jim heard her say quietly,

“I’m so sorry Blair, none of us meant for this to happen.”

Just as quietly she left and got changed, emerging to stand next to Jim. 

“You’re no where near as bad as Blair, but your immune system isn’t up to par either.  
You need to do this as well.”

Without a word he rolled up his sleeve and ripped off the plaster from the spot where Dr Packard had taken blood for the HIV test earlier. With shaking fingers she swabbed the spot and injected him then pocketed the syringe and sat down in one of the vacated chairs.

“How long?” Jim asked.

She shook her head.

“Maybe a couple of hours.”

A couple of hours before they would know if this was working. If it didn’t, Sandburg would die of pneumonia because his immune system was shot and he couldn’t fight the infection currently ravaging his body. 

Was this how it was going to end? Detective, junior grade, Blair Jacob Sandburg, official partner of Detective James Ellison, for all of five and a half months, unconscious and dying of pneumonia in a hospital bed. All for what? A desire to let Jim have a choice in who he slept with? 

Jim leaned forward again, resting his head against the glass, trying to get as physically close to his Guide as he could. 

Moving quietly for such a big man, Banks ghosted up and occupied the other chair next to Jim.

 

Several Months Earlier

Sarah took a quick look at Blair's face as he flinched.

"You OK?" she asked concentrating on drawing the first phial of blood up.

"Mmm," he replied, looking away.

"Chief doesn't like needles," Ellison explained, rolling down the sleeve of his shirt then resting a hand on Blair's shoulder.

"Oh, right!" Sarah said, putting the cap on the phial and setting it down in a rack then picking up another empty one. She fitted the empty phial into the barrel of the syringe, clicked it in place to form the seal then watched as fresh dark red blood rushed up into the phial from Blair's arm. 

“By the way, I couldn’t find another mention of the virus, besides the paper you showed me. We’ll just have to do the best we can, with what we have,” Sarah smiled at Blair. "One more, then that's it," she said soothingly. 

Ellison gently massaged the tense shoulder under his hand.

"Then we can get some take-out and watch the game. What do feel like tonight, Chief? Chinese, Thai, Italian, Wonder…."

"No! No Wonderburger!" Sandburg replied firmly. 

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”

"It’s nothing more than heart attack in a bun."

Sarah smiled to herself recognising the redirection technique and silently applauding the big man for it. She withdrew the needle and placed a square of gauze over the puncture wound.

"Press down hard on that for a few minutes," she directed.

"Is that it?" Sandburg asked.

"That's it," she confirmed.

"See, nothing to it, Chief," Ellison said.

"I should have the analysis in a couple of days time. I'll give you a call when I have the results in. OK?"

"Fine Sarah."

"I'm looking forward to this," she confided. "Always wanted to do some ground-breaking research."

Ellison and Sandburg immediately looked up, identical worried expressions on their faces. 

"Don't worry, no names, no pack drill. You'll be quite safe," she said, picking up the blood and labelling it.

"Thanks Sarah," Sandburg said, patting her arm as he stood up.

"Yeah, thanks Sarah," Ellison echoed.

 

Dipping his chopsticks into the chicken and cashew nut dish, Ellison directed his attention towards the TV. Blair was rapt, his chopsticks half-way between mouth and carton watching the Jags try to make another basket. The man missed the basket, the ball brushing the net and hitting the backboard.

"Oh man! He should have made that one!"

"His game is really off this season," Ellison agreed.

The hooter sounded for the end of the game to the accompaniment of howls of anguish from Ellison and Sandburg.

"That stinks! He's going to lose the Jags their place in the league if he doesn't get back on top of his game."

"Sooner he gets transferred out, the better! Want another beer?" Ellison asked, getting to his feet.

"Yes please," Sandburg replied from around a mouthful of rice and char sui pork.

 

They finished their meal, still talking over the abysmal performance of Rancy and whether or not he deserved his place in the team. Cleaning up and putting everything away, Jim opted to take a shower whilst Blair got out the last few papers he needed to grade for a class the next afternoon. Both of them carefully avoiding speaking about the blood tests from the afternoon. After a few minutes Blair found his attention wandering. Would Sarah find the peculiar chemical in their blood? They had told her a story that they suspected they had picked up the virus on their world travels and just wanted to be sure about it. She had believed that bit but neither of them had mentioned the other side-effect. Jim finished his shower, dried off and came back into the loft to find Sandburg sitting on the couch in his own version of a zone-out.

"Hey Chief!"

"Yeah?" Sandburg replied, shaking himself.

"You OK?" he asked, leaning down and putting a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Fine." He smiled up at his room-mate.

"Don't stay up all night," he whispered, brushing his lips against his hair. He took a deep breath, gathering the scent of his Guide. It soothed the Sentinel in a way nothing else could. He dialled his hearing up and listened to the familiar cadence of Sandburg's heartbeat, grounding himself in the sound.

Sandburg waited patiently for Jim to finish his little 'before bed' ritual. He realised that, despite his bravado, Jim must have been as stressed out about the tests as he had been. Jim only did this, these days, when he was feeling really under pressure.  
He put his hand over the one on his shoulder and leaned back, offering his lips. Jim kissed him without hesitation, his hand sliding down the neck of Sandburg's unbuttoned shirt running through the luxuriant chest hair, resting for a moment over his Guide’s heart then moving his hand and palming a nipple. 

"I won't be long," Sandburg whispered.

Jim smiled and headed off to bed. Quickly Sandburg finished the papers, took a fast shower and joined him in the big bed upstairs. They made long, sensual love then Jim curled himself around Blair, content, sated and sleepy.

Blair heard Jim's breathing deepen as he fell asleep. He stayed awake for a while afterwards. Jim wanted this to end, he wanted to be free to form sexual and emotional relationships with who ever he wanted, perhaps to marry again and have children. That was something he couldn't do unless this strange chemical bond with his Guide was broken. He guessed Jim was making the best of things but sometimes, like tonight, when he made love to him with such caring and tenderness, Blair could almost believe he genuinely wanted to do so, not that both of them were forced into this relationship by the virus circulating in their bodies. Slowly, so as not to wake him, Blair turned in the circle of Jim’s arms and watched him sleep. Jim wanted both of them to be free to form other relationships, so Blair would do everything in his power to make sure he got his wish. He loved Jim enough to set him free, to detach with love, as Naomi called it. Blair softly kissed his forehead. Jim smiled, recognising his Guide even in sleep. He tightened his hold and pulled Blair towards him, unwilling to let him move too far away.

Sleep was a long time in coming but eventually Blair followed his mate into oblivion.

 

The telephone was ringing when Sandburg opened the door to the loft. He dropped his keys in the basket, plonked the bag of groceries on the floor, picked up the telephone and held the door open for Jim.

“Sandburg.”

“Hi Blair, it’s Sarah.”

Sandburg’s heart did a quick double-beat when he heard her voice, Jim looked at him curiously, having heard it, but said nothing.

“Oh hi Sarah. How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine. Sorry it’s taken me so long to get back to you, I’ve had a lot of work on. I think I’ve isolated the virus. You both tested positive for it.”

“We did?”

Jim stood in front of Sandburg listening in to the conversation.

“Can you get rid of it?” Sandburg asked.

She giggled softly before saying, “I’ve already started on that but I need you both to come over, I need to run some more tests.”

Jim took the telephone out of Sandburg’s hand.

“What kind of tests?”

“Oh, hi Jim. I think I can eradicate the virus but I need to find out how you managed to infect each other, you both have the same strains of virus in your blood so it’s a first degree infection if you like. You cross-infected each other somehow.”

Jim had no intention of telling her just how they had managed to cross-infect each other.

“How can you find that out?”

“I think you’re both secretors so I could do with testing your sweat, saliva and, if you’d both be willing to give me a sample, your semen.”

Jim could feel his face colouring up as he listened.

“What’d she say?” Sandburg hissed.

“Is that really necessary?” Jim queried.

“Well, if you want me to work out the best way to avoid re-infection and eradicate both types of virus, yes. Look, I’m a Doctor, it’s simply bodily fluids to me.”

Jim growled under his breath.

“All you need to do is abstain from any form of sexual activity for a couple of days. I’ll post across a couple of sterilised bottles. About an hour before you come and see me, do the necessary and bring the sample to me. I can collect the saliva and sweat when you’re here. OK?”

Jim grunted.

“Can you make it across to the U at around seven thirty, Friday evening?”

“Seven thirty, Friday. Sarah wants to see us. That OK?” Jim asked Sandburg.

“No, I’ve got a faculty meeting, starts at seven. How about if I come in earlier. Say Thursday?”

“Sandburg can’t make Friday, can you see him Thursday?” Ellison dutifully relayed.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Tell him to come in around five. You tell him what’s required,” Sarah said quickly. “I’ve got to go. See you Friday.”

Ellison spluttered ineffectually to the dialling tone.

“Jim? What’s the problem?”

Ellison told him.

“Oh man!” he whined. “I gotta jerk off somewhere and then take it to her?”

“Yeah and we can’t make love, can’t even jerk each other off, for a couple of days beforehand,” Jim growled stalking towards the kitchen island to dump the groceries.

Suddenly this didn’t seem to be such a good idea.

Blair was about to agree then thought. Jim wanted to be free; this was part of the process.

“It’s only for a couple of days Jim. Won’t be so bad. We just go for a long work out on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.”

 

Jim paused whilst putting away some tinned tomatoes, his heart heavy. Sandburg wanted to be free that much, did he? It hurt him but he couldn’t blame the kid. He would want a wife and family at some point in the future, not be tied to a cop over a decade older than him, who was a cleaning freak into the bargain. Course he wanted his emotional and sexual freedom. Sandburg had already done so much for him, helped him control his senses, stopped him going crazy, given him the kind of companionship money couldn’t buy. Who was he, a middle-aged, grumpy, balding cop, to argue with Sandburg’s chance for a happy life?

“Yeah, you’re right Chief. It’s just me, I’m over-reacting.”

Sandburg painted his usual happy smile on his face.

“Sarah will get this thing sorted out, you’ll see,” he said, handing Jim the rest of the tomatoes to put away. “Then, the sky’s the limit!”

 

Thursday arrived, simultaneously too soon and not soon enough for Blair. He'd put the sterilized bottle safely in his backpack before setting off from the loft that morning but now it was nearly time to do the necessary he was close to losing his nerve. Worriedly he sat at his desk at the university fingering the glass bottle. The sudden ringing of his telephone startled him so much he nearly dropped the bottle.

"Sandburg!"

"Hi Chief."

"Jim. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just wondering how you were doing with… with… you know what."

"The idea of jerking off in my office and collecting the evidence is losing its appeal by the second!" Sandburg replied dryly.

"I had an idea about that," Jim replied.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Jim replied as he opened the door to Sandburg's office and closed his phone. 

"Thought maybe we could help each other out here and you could take mine into Sarah with yours."

Sandburg took one look at Jim's hopeful face and laughed.

Ellison took the laugh as assent and locked the door behind him, then switched the lights off.

"Don't want anyone demanding entrance, if they see the light on," he explained.

Sandburg got up from his seat behind the desk, walked around and leaned against the front of his desk, watching Jim's preparations with interest. His heart constricted at the care this big, gentle, man was taking. Did Jim really want to end this odd relationship? Then he shook himself. Of course he did! This was why he was taking such care. Irritably he told himself not to be so stupid. 

Jim took off his jacket and hung it up on the coat stand, taking his bottle out of a pocket. Jim stood in front of Sandburg and took him in his arms, kissing him deeply. The touch of his Guide's warm soft lips on his was a piece of heaven. He'd sorely missed even this small intimacy in the few days of their enforced abstinence.

"You comfortable there?" Jim whispered, his hand popping the button on Sandburg's jeans and lowering the zip. He reached behind and snagged the bottle bringing it closer. Sandburg nodded and reached up to kiss him again.

"You're going to have to keep the noise down," Jim said softly, breaking the kiss again.

"Me keep the noise down?" Blair said, in disbelief. 

"Yeah, you're pretty vocal in the sack."

"We're not in the sack," Blair replied.

"Guess that's OK then," Jim said, kneeling in front of his partner.

 

Skin softly glowing and samples safely sealed they stood together in front of Blair's desk, holding each other in the afterglow. A soft insistent beeping of Jim's watch alarm broke through the pleasant cocoon. 

"What's that for?" Blair asked his eyes still closed, his head comfortably leaning against Jim's chest.

He glanced at his watch.

"Your meeting with Sarah," Jim replied.

Sandburg laughed quietly.

"You put that in your watch?"

"Yeah, why not?"

Still smiling Sandburg pulled out of the embrace and rearranged his clothing. After a second or two's delay, Jim followed suite.

"Guess I'd better get this over with," he smiled, putting on a brave face for his partner.

"Yeah. See you later at the loft."

"OK. Usual time?"

"Unless Simon finds something for me to do!"

 

Sandburg jauntily swung into Sarah’s lab.

“Hi Blair,”

“Hi.”

He deposited the two bottles by her elbow without saying anything. Silently she picked them up and placed them in a rack.

“OK. I’ll just get you some water to chew then we can get started.”

“Water must be different down here,” Blair said cautiously. “I can drink it upstairs.”

“Chewing water, you just take a mouthful and keep it in your mouth for about five minutes. Then spit it back into this beaker.”

“Gross!”

“Gross or not, I can then get your saliva samples from it.”

 

Blair submitted to Sarah drawing off various bodily fluids from him before leaving her to her tests and heading for the loft.

 

When he’d gone she used a marker fluid she’d developed on the saliva and sweat samples, both of them glowed a faint blue showing the virus was present in the samples. Taking the semen samples she placed a small amount into a couple of test tubes and added the marker, then sealed and labelled the rest of the samples and put them in the freezer so they wouldn’t deteriorate. When she returned to her lab bench both test tubes were glowing, a bright neon blue.

“Wow!” she breathed looking in disbelief at the colour change. The concentration of virus in the semen must be phenomenal.

Carefully she prepared the fluid and subjected both samples to a battery of tests. It was nearly midnight by the time she had finished. She sat down and thought hard. The virus, in this level of concentration, appeared to be mimicking hormones. More specifically, unless she were very much mistaken, a pheromone.  
Pity she couldn’t test it on Blair tomorrow, he was an easier test subject. Blair may not be in tomorrow but Ellison was; she could do a little blind test on him. Before freezing the marked sample from Blair, she extracted a tiny amount of clear liquid and put it into a small glass phial with a stopper. It would be quite safe there until Jim came to see her the next evening.

“Hi Jim. Come in and have a seat,” she said smiling.

Ellison smiled at her and sat down.

“I just want to get a saliva sample…”

“Blair told me about it. You want me to chew water?”

“Yes please,” she smiled, trying to stop herself feeling intimidated by the big man. 

She handed him a glass of water which he obediently began to slosh around his mouth. She then gave him an empty beaker for him to spit into and unobtrusively flicked the top off the glass phial at the other end of the room.  
The effect was immediate. Ellison stopped chewing the water, half stood up, thought the better of it then began to look around the lab for Sandburg pulling his jacket across his lap to hide his involuntary reaction to the scent.  
Jackpot! Sarah thought to herself. A sexual attractant second to none. I wonder if these two realise there’s a sexual component to all this?

“OK Jim?” she asked, after recapping the bottle. “You can spit now.”

He did so and then asked,

“Has Sandburg been here today?”

“No, he came in last night. Why?”

“Just..,” he coughed and continued. “Just thought I heard him, that’s all.”

She smiled, shrugged and carried on extracting blood and sweat from him.  
When Jim had left she decided that to be fair, she really should try this little experiment on Sandburg as well. It could be a one sided attraction, but she doubted it.

 

It took surprisingly little time to synthesise an anti-virus. She tested it under lab conditions, tried it on mice and cats then on herself. No fever, no change in her blood picture, no reaction at all. Time to go and talk to Sandburg and Ellison. She checked Blair’s office hours and called him to make an appointment. It may have been her imagination but Sandburg did not seem that happy to hear from her. He agreed to see her after his next student so, after she put the telephone down she made her plans. Taking a micro sample of the liquid from Ellison’s sample she dotted it on one corner of a paper tissue, placed the tissue inside a sealed plastic bag then set off to Sandburg’s office at the correct time.

He was very welcoming when she appeared, offering her coffee or tea and ushering her to a seat. When he’d made drinks he sat behind his desk. She put her coffee down and unsealed the bag in her pocket whilst explaining about the anti-virus. Almost immediately she could see his attention wandering. His eyes dilated, his breathing accelerated and she could see the start of a sexual flush on his cheeks. Even his lips looked red and more swollen. If the rest of his erectile tissue were responding in the same manner it was lucky he was sitting behind that desk.

“You OK?” she asked solicitously.

“Er, yeah, it’s a little warm in here, that’s all.”

“You want me to open a window?”

“Yes, please.”

Smirking to herself she got up and opened a window wide, then resealed the bag. 

Blair was wiping his upper lip and his face.

“So when do you think Jim will be free to listen to all the medical talk?” she asked, sitting back down in her chair.

“How about now?” Ellison’s soft voice asked.

She was startled, she hadn’t even heard him come into the office.

“OK. You alright for time?” she asked Blair.

He smiled at Jim then nodded.

“Selina was my last student today.”

She went over her spiel again for them both, ending with,

“Really this should now go to the FDA for further testing.”

“But we’re the only ones who are affected,” Blair blurted out.

“We don’t actually know that you are the only two,” Sarah reminded them. “I only know for sure because we ran a blood test. There could be a large number of people out there with this virus. A lot of people have travelled to the part of the world where you two caught it.”

“I don’t want this to be made public,” Jim stated. “We simply want it treating in ourselves.”

“Strictly speaking that would be unethical on my part.”

“It wouldn’t if we were willing to be guinea pigs. We can sign a disclaimer to that effect,” Blair said quickly. Jim looked at his partner and nodded.

“I’m certainly willing to give it a go.”

Sarah looked at the two men.

“Are you sure? There’s no guarantee there won’t be side effects. I have no idea how it will affect you once the virus is eradicated. You do understand that, don’t you?”

The both nodded.

“When can we start?” Blair asked.

“If you’re both sure, there’s no reason we can’t do it tonight. But, you must not cross-infect each other afterwards.”

Two pairs of gimlet blue eyes bored into her.

“Try to avoid touching each other, I’ve noticed you do that a lot, unconsciously. I assume you cross-infected each other by that method.”

“Right,” Jim said softly, his icy blue eyes never leaving hers.

“Ummm, well, if you want to come down to my lab I can give you the first injection there.” She stood up fast, completely intimidated by the big cop. Keeping her head down, she scurried past and left Blair’s office.

“Stop that!” Blair hissed at him.

“Stop what?” Jim replied, all innocence.

“You know very well what.”

Jim stood up and paused.

“Blair, are we sure we want to do this? She said we can’t touch each other. What about the times you need to touch me and I need to touch you?”

“Just have to make sure it’s not skin to skin contact. If you’re unhappy about this, we don’t have to do it,” Blair stated, holding his breath hoping that Jim would make a decision for both of them.

He waited, not looking at Ellison.

Jim looked at Blair, wondering what exactly was going on in that mind.

“No, you’re right. We need to do this. Come on, let’s get it over with,” he said, leading the way out of Blair’s office.

Blair dropped his head, as he followed Jim. Wrong decision, big guy, wrong decision, he thought sadly, switching off the lights and locking his door.

 

To say the rest of the evening was strained was an understatement. Jim tried valiantly to avoid touching his Guide whilst his Guide tried to keep out of his way as much as possible. After several hours of dancing around each other, Blair opted to go to bed. He was feeling tired and his skin had begun to itch.

A couple of hours after getting into bed Jim was still wide awake. Irritably he punched his pillow and rolled over. He knew by the sound of Blair’s heartbeat he was lying in his own bed, wide awake too. Usually they would have reached out to each other, made love and then gone to sleep content, but that was out of the question now.  
Neither man slept well at all and by the end of the second day Blair’s itchy skin was driving him mad. He called at a drug store and got some mild steroid cream which alleviated the symptoms for a while but not completely. 

One week later Sarah took blood samples and studied them. She was pleased that the concentration of virus was lower, so she gave them another injection. Blair didn’t mention his itchy skin which calmed quite quickly after the second dose of the serum. Sarah wanted them to wait for a further week before the next injection. It felt like one of the longest weeks ever in Blair’s life before the third and final shot. 

Jim seemed to be in good health, Sarah was very happy her anti-virus was working so well but Blair felt a little like he was walking in limbo land. He felt rather down and he was having trouble concentrating but again, he didn’t say anything putting his symptoms down to the stress they were both under.

After the third injection Sarah warned them she wanted to check them out again in three months time but for now they both looked pretty good. She gave them a small bottle of the anti-virus plus a supply of syringes just in case they needed one more extra shot. The virus was reducing nicely but not completely eradicated.

Jim didn’t mention a side-effect he’d started to notice. His ‘sense’ of his Guide was diminishing. He could usually anchor himself to the outside world by tapping into this sense but now it wasn’t so easy. Almost as if Sandburg was getting further and further away from him, even though he was standing within several feet. It didn’t seem to be causing any problems so Jim forgot about it, especially in view of the effect the serum had on his sex life. 

When beautiful, deadly and tragic Lila came back into his life, he’d thought it was fate giving him a second change. Afterwards he told himself he should have known better. It had taken him quite a while to come back from seeing her give her life to save his. He had no way of knowing worse was to come. When rogue Sentinel Alex Barnes showed up, making him wonder if he was finally losing his mind, he’d pushed Blair right into her path, literally handing him over to her, so she could murder him. Those few minutes on the grass outside Hargrove Hall were indelibly imprinted on his mind forever. He never, ever wanted to feel the emptiness and desolation of that short span of time. After their joining, his guidesense seemed strengthened; he could certainly ground himself a lot easier just afterwards. Slowly though, it began to fade again. Through meeting up with Veronica, right up to the dissertation fiasco and Zeller, he could barely feel Sandburg’s presence in his mind. His guidesense stayed at a background level even after the diss, when Sandburg had taken and passed a shortened course at the Academy, to return as his full time partner. Jim accepted it as part of his life now. He assumed it was part of the freedom from the strange chemical bond, and part of that freedom meant a reduction in the sense of his Guide. It was a price Jim would gladly have avoided paying, but, this was for Blair. His beloved Blair, who wanted to be free to love and live with whom ever he chose. 

 

“Sand burg, Ellison!”

Banks didn’t even wait for their acknowledgement before he stamped back into his office.

“Our master’s voice,” Sandburg quipped, leading the way. 

Grinning, Jim joined him, casually putting his hand on his partner’s shoulder. Noting his elevated temperature even through three layers of clothing Jim asked softly,

“You OK Chief? You seem a little warm.”

Sandburg smiled at the gift of a line,

“Thought you knew Jim, all the ladies do; I’m hot stuff!”

“Short stuff, yeah!” Jim replied pushing him into Banks’ office.

“Gentlemen, sit down please and close the door.”

“What’s up Simon?”

“That’s Captain Banks to you, detective.”

Sandburg grinned cheekily and parked himself on a chair.

 

Three minutes later he wasn’t smiling at all.

 

Back at their adjacent desks after the briefing, Sandburg was staring into space, his lips moving soundlessly.

“Chief?”

When his partner didn’t answer Jim leaned over and touched his hand.

Reflexively Sandburg moved away.

“Knock it off Jim,” he said quietly. Jim knew the rules - no skin to skin contact - through clothing only.

“You OK?” Jim asked trying hard to keep the pain from that all too common reaction from showing on his face.

“Yeah.”

“What is that, a prayer?”

“Part of an Islamic prayer; there is but one God.”

“Islam as well?”

“Why not? Islam is a faith based on equality for all who believe.”

Jim snorted, “Unless you happened to be born with your sexual organs inside your body or you prefer your own sex.”

“Islam, like many faiths, has been hijacked by men who preach their own version according to their own beliefs. The same is true of Christianity, on both counts.”

“Not seen many Christian women wearing purdah.”

“Before the last twenty years you won’t have seen many woman assisting with Christian services either.”

Jim nodded.

“If you look back in the history of Christianity far enough you find that the version of Catholicism preached today is based on the teachings of Paul; who, by contemporary accounts lived decades after the time of Jesus and hated women. The church before Paul preached equality.”

“Sandburg, you’re a great feminist.”

“Brought up by Naomi, what did you expect?”

“So, do you know any of the faces on the list?” Jim asked changing the subject.

“No but we could check out the Mosque on Scott and Third. The Iman is a moderate, a good guy who speaks out publicly against extremism.”

“After you,” Jim said, handing him his jacket.

 

Regretfully the Iman, Mohamed Al-Kyham couldn’t help them.

“Truly Blair, if I knew these men I would give them up to you.”

“I know,” Blair replied.

“Leave me a copy of the list. I will make enquiries for you.”

Blair smiled as he handed over the list and his card.

“Did you get anything?” Blair asked, getting into the truck.

Jim shook his head.

“OK, let’s head over to Fifth and Lexington, North Shore Mosque.”

Obediently Jim merged into the traffic and headed across town.

 

The reception wasn’t anywhere near as friendly. Blair offered the customary greeting which was returned with deep suspicion. When he broached the reason for the visit the man’s gaze hardened.

“This is a house of worship Detective Sandburg. Would you go to one of your Christian Churches and ask such questions?”

“Yes, if we felt it was warranted,” Blair replied readily.

“Hmmph!”

“If you hear anything or see anything call me,” Blair said, handing over his card.

Mr Al-Sadawe put the card into his pocket and made it perfectly clear he wanted them to leave.  
They climbed back into the truck. Without waiting to consult his partner, Jim drove around the corner and parked. Blair looked enquiringly.

“Al-Sadawe was just pissed at us, but there was someone else in the back who was frightened.”

Sure enough, five minutes later a beat up Nissan of an indeterminate shade of brown emerged from a side street. Carefully Jim followed. The car led them to a run down part of town. A couple of hookers desultorily looking for business brightened up when they saw the car and the truck. When neither slowed they went back to pacing the sidewalk. Warehouses and abandoned office blocks proliferated, with the occasional diner interspersed between to cater for the few workers left in the area.  
Jim hung back slowly travelling down the dirty street. Pulling up on the left, beyond the last lit window on the street Jim killed the engine.

“He’s circling,” he said quietly.

“Do you think he’s made us?” Sandburg asked.

Shaking his head Jim listened intently to the sound of the car engine as it turned right, right again, drove one block further over then right to put it behind the truck.

“Chief, slide over here,” Jim ordered. Looking confused Sandburg did as he was told. Jim grabbed his shoulders pulling him closer.

“Put your arms around me.”

Sandburg got the idea. In the fading light, from outside this would appear like a couple in a passionate clinch.

Sure enough the brown Nissan rattled down the street behind them, Jim following it with eyes and ears. The driver looked then turned his head away, his mouth twisted in a look of disgust at the sight of the ‘couple’. Mirthlessly Jim’s mouth curled in a humourless smile as he wondered just what the expression would have been had the man realised the curly haired beauty in his arms was male. 

The car drove one block down and turned into a loading bay. After a few seconds the steel shutter rattled up and the car disappeared inside. Shamelessly Jim took advantage of the situation and soaked his senses in his Guide. Taking the younger man’s scent deep into his lungs he luxuriated in the rare chance of being this close. The Sentinel part of him felt starved and Guide deprived even though the man knew why.

Gently Sandburg eased away.

“Can you hear anything?” he asked.

With an effort Jim turned his senses away from the man looking into his eyes to the warehouse down the street.

“Phew!”

“What is it?”

“Diner, dumping their refuse in the alley.”

“Bad huh?”

“Very. Good thing it isn’t summer.”

“OK, dial down smell and go in with your hearing.”

Automatically reaching out to anchor himself Jim put his hand on Sandburg’s jean clad thigh, quite well aware of the hike in Sandburg’s heart rate. A stream of language assaulted him. Struggling to bring the volume under control, the ‘dial’ spinning uselessly, until a strong hand caught his wrist. Magically the world righted itself, the volume resetting.

“They’re not speaking English.”

“Repeat what they’re saying.”

Dutifully Jim relayed the conversation whilst Sandburg scribbled notes on the back an envelope from his pocket. Suddenly Sandburg dropped the pen and grabbed Jim, pulling him close and whispering urgently,

“The main man in there is coming out to look with binoculars.”

Jim’s brain ran through a series of scenarios which would look perfectly natural for two guys to be doing whilst parked up in a fairly deserted stretch of road at dusk. The Sentinel made the decision for him, whilst also getting a large dose of exactly what he had been feeling very deprived of, namely the taste, feel and scent of his Guide.

“Kiss me,” Jim ordered.

Sandburg stared so Jim pulled him close. He had intended to keep the kiss light and undemanding but he was totally unprepared for the way all his senses, deprived of the taste and feel of his Guide for so many months, reacted. The Sentinel within needed no further encouragement to leap into the driving seat. Jim was aware of feeling the most centred and calm he had for a long time. On some level he was also aware of a growing arousal linked with a rapidly growing elation that his Guide hadn’t pushed him away. His wonderful, beautiful, beloved Guide. Even when a coppery scent of blood added itself to the heady mix he didn’t let up. A sharp pain on his cheek followed swiftly by a pain on the opposite side of his head broke through as his head made contact with the back of the cab from Blair’s slap on his face. Jim looked down into the wide open shocked eyes of his partner. Taking a quick look around Jim wondered how they had come to be lying across the bench seat of the truck; Blair on his back and Jim lying on him. Sandburg’s lips were swollen and red, contrasting sharply with his pale face. A smudge of blood against his bottom lip adding another texture.

“Jim! Jim, don’t you dare zone on me now. Jim! Are you back with me?”

Jim shook his head.

“Yeah, I’m back.”

To his surprise Sandburg grinned instead of ripping him a new one.

“Think that should have given them the idea we’re not here to spy on them. Can you hear what they’re saying?”

Jim listened and relayed the words. The tension left Sandburg.

“Good. The guy from the mosque is getting chewed out for going there. The man he is talking to is taking a look using binoculars.”

“So now he’ll think we’re a couple of gay guys out for some fun?”

“Not exactly. If my translation is correct he thinks I’m a hooker, which has given me an idea.”

“Sandburg, you’re not supplementing your income that way.”

“Very funny! Is he still watching?”

Jim risked a look above the dashboard, effortlessly zeroing in on the dark skinned man holding onto a pair of high resolution binoculars currently trained in their direction.

“Well?”

“Yeah, he’s still watching.”

Quickly calculating angles Jim realised the man wouldn’t be able to see all the way into the truck; he’d just be able to see Jim’s back as he lay on the bench seat. 

“Rock the truck,” Sandburg ordered.

“What?” Jim asked.

“He thinks I’m a whore, James. Make like you’re giving me the ride of a lifetime. Get this truck rocking.”

Ellison closed his eyes in pained embarrassment. It would be infinitely easier to do this for real than just pretend. Half heartedly Jim pushed forward. Sandburg pursed his lips and slid out from under him and down into the footwell.

“Come on Jim, I know you can do better than that, on three.”

Jim bent his knees a little and pushed at the same time; the suspension rocking a little.

“Now, let’s get a rhythm going. One, two three four, one two three, four.”

Jim couldn’t hold the laughter back any more.

“Get on with it,” Sandburg gasped.

Jim kept on laughing quietly, his face getting red with exertion and laughter.

“Do you think we’ve come yet?” he asked plaintively a couple of minutes later.

Sandburg collapsed on the floor of the truck, his face scarlet and his laughter turning to coughing.

“Oh man!” 

Jim slumped across the bench seat until he had composed himself then sat up, as Sandburg crawled back onto the seat.

“Slide over here Sandburg, he’s still watching.”

“Is he saying anything?” Blair asked, flowing into his arms.

Jim relayed the words, Sandburg translating softly into his ear.

“Filthy whore, infidel and immoral Westerner seem to be the gist of it.”

“For someone who’s so disgusted by the sight, it doesn’t seem to have stopped him watching,” Jim muttered. “Come on Chief, let’s get out of here.” 

Even listening to what he knew was an edited version of the man’s words about him and his Guide made Jim angry.

”Wait a minute Jim, one more check around. Can you hear, see, smell, taste anything else?”

Jim took a deep breath, consciously blocking out the smell of rotting food from the diner next to the warehouse and piggybacking taste and smell onto hearing. It didn’t take long for him to find something. He pulled back fast, his head spinning, and started trembling and sweating. Sandburg was holding onto his hand, stroking the side of his face and saying over and over,

“It’s OK Jim, I’ve got you. You’re OK.”

Shaking his head he hung onto the comfort for a few seconds longer.

“Let’s get out of here,” he muttered.

“You OK to drive?” Sandburg asked.

“Yeah.”

“What was it?”

“Opium,” he replied shortly. “And lot of it.”

 

“The Afghan trade route supplies most of the heroin on the streets. If it’s not converted and it’s pure….”

“Oh yeah, it’s pure,” Jim assured Banks, remembering in horror the tiny scent he’d gotten before he’d snatched his senses back.

“Could you figure out how much of the stuff was in the warehouse?” Simon asked.

“A lot. I couldn’t give you a definite figure in poundage but there was way more than a couple of pounds.”

“They’re either going into the drug business or…”

“They’re going to swap the drugs for arms,” Sandburg finished for him.

Banks nodded, his face blank.

“First of all gentlemen, we need hard evidence that drugs are being stored in that warehouse.”

“And we need to get it,” Sandburg finished off.

“Go and detect, Detectives.”

“Sir!”

 

“I’m thinking we do a little snooping around in there tonight Sandburg.”

Blair remained deep in thought at his desk.

“Sandburg, you with me?”

“I don’t think we need to do that. Give me half an hour and then we can go and take a walk.”

“What?”

But Sandburg was out of his chair and disappearing down the corridor.

 

An hour and a half later both men were bundled up against the sharp wind and, ostensibly, taking a walk along Laurenson towards the diner.

“It’s easy Jim, we go down Gibson’s alley at the side of diner, and my nose picks up all the evidence we need. If there’s as much in there as you think, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“And if there isn’t that much in there? If I’m wrong?”

Sandburg rolled his eyes at his Sentinel’s self-doubt.

“Then we’ll make like covert ops guys tonight.”

 

They walked quickly, Sandburg’s long coat flapping around his knees, his hair confined under a cap. Under his coat Sandburg was holding an electronic nose borrowed from the forensics department. To Jim it looked like a thin funnel, about a foot long. It could detect various chemicals in very low concentrations. 

Gibson’s alley at the side of the diner was narrow and it also serviced the side of the warehouse. At a shutter covered door Sandburg stopped and directed the ‘nose’ all around the sides of the shutter. They kept walking, a lot more slowly now, allowing the instrument as much time as possible to gather scent. A little further on Sandburg grinned as they passed a window encased in a wire cage. One of the top panes was broken. Looking around to make sure they were unobserved he pointed the ‘nose’ into the broken pane and took a reading.

As soon as they got back to the precinct Sandburg almost sprinted down to forensics, Ellison following. The technician, apart from being relieved at the safe return of his new toy, connected it up to the analyser. The printout spewed forth, a sea of figures and chemical components.

 

“The stuff in that warehouse is pure and there is a lot of it,” Simon read from his interpreted report on what the nose had picked up. “Well, we already knew that. Now back to the original question.”

“Drugs for arms,” Ellison said.

“And we need to know which it is,” Banks stated. “Before we have to get the feds in. How easy will it be to set up a stake-out in that area?”

Ellison grunted as he said, “Sandburg’s thought out some good cover for dusk to morning shift. Dayshift, we could probably rent an office there and put a couple of men in at one of the diners down there.”

“What’s the cover for dusk?” Banks asked suspiciously.

“There are a few working guys and girls about three blocks up. We just make it look like they’re moving down into that territory.”

Banks looked at Jim for confirmation.

“It’s a good call.”

“What makes you think they’ll buy this?”

“We, ummm, planted the seed already.”

“Do I really want to know this? No, I don’t. Sandburg, you get a rota together. If you’ve set part of it up already stick with the story. I’ll have a look first thing tomorrow.”

Sandburg’s face dropped.

“Simon!”

Banks faced him with an offended scowl.

“That’s Captain Banks, Detective, Junior Grade, Sandburg.”

“It’s poker night.”

“I am aware of that. You already take too much off of us. Now get to work.”

 

By the time he was through with the rota Sandburg had roped in most of major crimes, a couple of guys from narcotics and three from vice and he was exhausted. His skin itched badly and he was feeling very edgy. Thanking the gods that it wasn’t their turn to host poker night he went back to the loft. Without even waiting to boil the kettle he went straight to the bathroom cabinet where they kept the medical supplies. Guiltily he looked at the two thirds empty bottle. Dismissing the thought of how much he had actually taken he got ready to administer another five millilitres of the anti-virus. Making a big effort to dispose of the needle and syringe carefully and well out of sight, sound and smell of Jim he finally put the kettle onto boil for a soothing cup of camomile tea. He knew from experience it would take a couple of hours for the itching to subside enough so he could sleep. It was worth it, he kept on telling himself. Anything was worth giving Jim his freedom. He knew he should have expected this though. So far it had happened every time Jim had touched him skin on skin. Given the way Jim and he had been enthusiastically sucking face for the benefit of the unknown man with the binoculars it was a minor miracle he hadn’t had to inject himself before now. A little guiltily he allowed himself to remember their kisses; the touch of Jim’s lips, soft and mobile contrasting with the scrape of beard. Thinking about the kisses Sandburg started to wonder what he would do when the anti-virus ran out. Sarah hadn’t been in contact with him since his public appearance on television confessing himself a fraud. He wondered if they should be trying to line up another research doctor with an interest in viral agents, but it had taken long enough to get hold of Sarah. Then again, he was making assumptions about Sarah that he shouldn’t. But would it be a good idea to try and see her again? She wasn’t stupid and was most definitely possessed of a lively and enquiring mind. He wasn’t sure that his ready made explanation of how Sid, cast as the unscrupulous publisher, had released a novel he had been writing saying it was his dissertation, would go down with her. Given he now worked as a full-time police officer with Jim, she just might put two and two together. With the last of his tea and thoughts of Jim and Sarah spinning around in his brain Sandburg fell asleep on the sofa where Jim found him forty five minutes later.

Sandburg looked exhausted; dark and heavy beard growth made him look paler than ever. Making an assessment of his Guide without touching him, Jim knew Sandburg had lost weight but he was still somewhat alarmed to find he could pick Sandburg up rather easily and carry him, in his arms, to his room.

“Jeez Sandburg, eat something once in a while, why don’t cha?”

Blair muttered but didn’t wake.

 

Pottering around after putting his Guide to bed Jim checked the locks and windows, used the bathroom then took himself off to bed. Floating in that half aware state between waking and sleeping Jim nearly jumped out of his skin when a male voice next to his ear said quite clearly,

“The light is dying!”

Jim rolled out of bed looking around for the intruder. Not only had he heard the voice, he’d felt the man’s breath against his skin. He couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary in his bedroom, so he extended his hearing to the rest of the loft. He could hear Sandburg sniffing in his sleep; his heart rate a little fast but maybe he was dreaming. No other heartbeats in the loft, so apart from himself and Blair there was no-one else in the loft. Sitting down carefully on the side of his bed Jim let himself start to relax despite the sudden awakening he’d had. Thinking about this rationally and knowing no-one untoward was around it had to be his imagination. Once again extending his hearing he listened quietly for a few seconds then he got up and padded quietly down the stairs. Quickly he entered Blair’s room and knelt at the side of the futon, allowing himself the rare indulgence of watching his Guide in sleep. Sandburg was obviously dreaming, his heart rate and respirations - the cadence of which had been permanently altered since the drowning - were raised. Gently and tenderly he turned Blair from his back onto his side, brushing the short curls back in a soothing stroke until his heart rate showed he was once more deeply asleep. Frowning Jim paused. The kid was running a slight fever. Making a mental note to check him again in the morning Jim went back to his own bed, not for the first time wishing he was still sharing it with Blair. But that was forbidden now. Blair wanted his freedom and Jim felt that after all Blair had given up for him, it was the least he could do. 

Restlessly Jim tried to relax, unconsciously trying to anchor himself in his guidesense but he couldn’t do it. Tonight, despite the skin to skin contact they had shared earlier in the evening, Sandburg seemed further away than ever. Irritably he turned over. He might not be able to anchor himself in his guidesense, but he could still listen to his Guide’s heartbeat. The steady rhythm drew him in. He found, if he concentrated hard enough, he could distinguish the slightly different sounds between the bicuspid and tricuspid valves opening and closing. Letting the sound surround him Jim barely noticed when he slid into a zone.

 

“Jim, are you going into work today?” A clatter of cups punctuated the sentence. 

“How can someone with your hearing sleep through this?” Another bang as the refrigerator door closed. “I’m hitting the shower first, OK Jim.” A pause, then, “Jim, are you OK?”

Jim shook his head.

“Apart from the racket down there, I’m fine!” he bellowed back.

Blair grinned and left for the shower.  
Jim lay in bed considering. There was no way he was going to tell his Guide he had just come out of a seven hour zone whilst listening to said Guide’s heartbeat last night.

Valiantly shaking off the disorientation which always accompanied coming out of a zone Jim managed to get washed and dressed whilst Sandburg made them both eggs and toast. Remembering Sandburg’s slight fever from the night before, Jim opened the medicine cabinet looking for the Tylenol.

“What are you looking for?” Sandburg shouted, paused in the act of pouring coffee. 

The first rattle of the cabinet door had put him on high alert. He did not want Jim to see how little of the anti-virus was left.

“It’s OK, I’ve found it,” Jim replied extracting the packet of caplets and closing the cabinet.

Breathing a sigh of relief Sandburg carried on pouring coffee then watched him approach, recognising the packing.

“Jim, you know those don’t do you any good.”

“That’s fine Junior, because they’re for you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you were running a slight fever last night and your chest sounds a little congested.”

Sandburg turned the box of tablets over in his hand. He hadn’t intended telling Jim that he also had a scratchy throat this morning.

“Thanks man.” Sandburg was genuinely touched by the gesture.

“Eat up,” Jim said, gesturing with his fork. “We need to get this stakeout on the road.”

 

Most of the day was indeed spent getting the stakeout started; sorting out the lines of communication, a system of contact for the people working the street and unobtrusively getting a couple of men in the office across the street.

The winter’s day soon closed in then it was time for Blair to transform himself from police detective to working hooker. They’d decided that Jim should be his pimp so coming to check in and, apparently, relieve him of any cash several times in the evening wouldn’t look unduly suspicious and would be an ideal way to keep in contact. They both knew the type of ‘uniform’ Blair needed to wear. Jim was unhappy with the thin shirt, unbuttoned nearly to the waist, which Sandburg was preparing to wear.

“Chief, you’ve got a cold, you’ll catch your death in that!”

“Just make sure you make it look like I’m the favourite pony in your stable and get someone to pick me up every half hour.”

Sandburg stood like a lamb whilst Jim put the transmitter in the small of his back on a belt under the shirt and ran and taped the wire up his spine then under his arm, leaving the tiny microphone in the hollow of his shoulder.  
Sandburg topped off his ensemble of skin tight jeans and shirt with a short leather jacket that stopped at his waist.

“Shows off all my assets,” he remarked checking his appearance in the mirror. 

The outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination. Trying to discreetly adjust himself, Jim was very glad he’d chosen to dress well as the pimp. The long jacket was a good length. He made a mental note to himself to look out all the rest of his longer garments. If Sandburg was going to dress like this every day, he was going to need them. 

“You ready Chief?” he asked, more than a little dry mouthed.

“Yeah, let’s get this show on the road.” Sandburg smiled up at him, his blue eyes crinkling then spoiling the effect by sniffing loudly.

Sandburg followed him out of the john and back into the bullpen to check his badge and strap on a concealed weapon in an ankle holster. The chorus of wolf whistles which greeted his appearance set Jim’s teeth on edge. Although why the fact his partner looked sexually available and people noticed should do that, he didn’t know. He did know he didn’t like it.

“Hey, Hairboy, remember to only get into the car if you recognise the driver.”

“Think I can follow that H,” Sandburg replied good-naturedly.

“Looking like that you’ll both be fighting them off,” H said, laughing.

Sandburg grinned back as he knocked on Bank’s door.

“Come.”

“One detective shield and one standard issue firearm,” he quoted laying the items down on Simon’s desk.

“Simon signed a form and passed it to Sandburg to initial. Then he put the shield and gun in his top drawer, withdrew a small gun in an ankle holster and then locked the drawer. Looking him over after he put the holster on, Simon nodded.

“Keep him safe detective,” he growled at Jim. “Any problems you call for back-up. Understand?”

“Understood Sir,” Sandburg replied.

“Good luck, kid.”

 

Jim picked up the keys to the vehicle he would be using, in his pimp persona. The sergeant on duty grinned as he took in the sight of Ellison and Sandburg.

“Hey Walter, how’s it going?” Sandburg asked, as Jim signed the paperwork.

“Pretty good Blair. You be careful out there.”

“I will.”

“The car is around the side. You won’t miss it.”  
Ellison gave Sergeant Kriktska a strange look at his comment then he went to find the car.

He stopped, taking in the sight which greeted him; from its striking pinkish purple hue to the wide cream leather seats inside, the car screamed its calling. The warehouse on Laurenson was forty minutes away which gave them time to work out more of their back story, once Jim had gotten over his bile at having to drive the car.

“OK, these two look like good witnesses,” Sandburg said, nodding towards a couple of under-dressed over made-up women.”

Jim screeched to a halt just past the two then started shoving Sandburg.

“Get out!” he yelled. “Don’t ring me again until you made up that money and then some.”

“Come on man, its cold,” Sandburg whined.

“Get the fuck out of the car and get your ass working.”

One last almighty shove had Sandburg out of the car and onto the road, barely keeping his balance. Jim roared off, letting the door slam on the borrowed car. 

Pimpmobile was the final appellation Jim had given it on their way over.

“Asshole!” Sandburg screamed after the departing vehicle, giving the finger.

The two women exchanged a look as Sandburg joined them on the sidewalk.

“You OK honey?” the blonde asked, her hard eyes raking him from head to feet.

“Yeah,” he sighed, running his fingers through his curls and sniffing.

“Nice guy!”

“He can be, just not today.” 

He flashed his best smile at her before saying, “Needed some special…cold… medicine and he didn’t like me using my john’s fees to pay for it.”

Her brunette companion laughed, while the blonde smiled.

“So, how’s business ladies?”

“You stick around sweetheart, you’ll find out,” the blonde replied.

“Only not too near us,” the brunette said.

“Unless they’re looking for a threesome,” the blonde added.

“I’ll give you a yell if they do,” he promised.

Sandburg smiled again and made his way, slowly down the sidewalk keeping an alert look out on the cruising traffic, as if he was looking for business. He stopped a couple of times before taking up a station diagonally opposite the warehouse.  
All seemed quiet across the street. And now he had stopped walking Sandburg became very aware of just how cold it really was. Forty minutes later, he was stomping his feet and blowing on his hands when Rafe pulled to smooth stop beside him.

Sandburg bent down ostensibly asking, you looking for some fun? In reality asking, 

“Where the hell you been? I’m freezing my rocks off here!”

“Sorry Sandburg, accident on Fifth took a while to get around it, get in.”

Sandburg wasted no time doing so.

“Some coffee in the thermos,” Rae said, pulling smoothly away.

“Thanks man.”

 

The pattern set for a pick up every thirty or forty minutes which gave Blair a chance to get warm and report in. The wire was for emergency use only. Every forth or fifth time Ellison would arrive. Blair would get in the ‘pimpmobile’. They’d talk for a few minutes then Blair would make a show of handing money over to Ellison who would apparently pocket it, whilst handing the bills back. 

A couple of times in the night a light went on in the top window of the warehouse but for no more than a couple of minutes. By seven in the morning Blair had spoken to Mandy, the blonde hooker, been generally ignored by Desiree, the brunette, hadn’t had a chance to talk to the other three girls further up the street and was longing for his bed. Ellison showing up at six after seven was the best sight Blair thought he’d ever seen.

“OK?” Ellison asked quietly.

“Yeah. Long night.”

He nodded, guiding the car expertly through the traffic. Once back at the loft, whilst Blair showered and changed Ellison made them both a good meal. Even though it was morning, this was their dinner. Sandburg made his report as he ate.

“Looks like someone is living there. Not much activity last night though.”

Jim nodded.

“Been checking out dealers and snitches. No word of anything yet. So it looks like you’re in your second career for at least another few nights.”

“Wonderful!” Sandburg muttered, finishing the last of his food. “I’m going to hit the sack, Jim. I’m beat.”

Ellison nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

He rinsed the dishes put them in the dishwasher, all the time, listening to Blair getting ready for bed. He switched on the machine then went to bed himself, remembering to use the sleep mask and white noise generator to combat the sound of the city getting ready for work. Ellison quickly dropped into a deep sleep after his long shift. He dreamt he was walking around the Chopec village with the shamen, Incacha. Under the jungle canopy Ellison knew it wasn’t bright but here it seemed to be darker than ever. 

“Should we return to the village?” Ellison asked.

Incacha indicated no.

“It’s getting towards evening, we should return,” Ellison persisted.

“It is not evening time, Enqueri but the light is dying.”

Incacha stopped and turned to face him.

“The light will soon be gone,” he said sadly.

Jim woke from the disturbing dream, his heart hammering. He could hear Blair coughing downstairs and the sound of the traffic outside on Prospect. This time sleep was a long time in coming.

 

Sandburg was dropped off by Jim the next evening, but they made it look decidedly more friendly this time. Mandy, watched curiously as Jim turned to Blair. Desiree turned away immediately, looking out for other traffic, once she’d seen Blair in the front seat.

“Looks like you have a fan,” Jim whispered, close to Blair’s lips.

“She’s just looking out for me. She has you pegged as an abusive pimp.”

Ellison grinned. “Only when you don’t earn the goods Sandburg.”

“She’s still looking,” Sandburg whispered.

Jim lowered his head and kissed the lips next to his, deeply. Lack of air more than any desire to stop what he was doing broke the spell. The glazed eyes in front of him told their own story. Jim made a move to open the door for him, when Sandburg said,

“Erm Jim, I, umm, need to take a minute before you let me out.”

Jim could feel the heat from Sandburg’s blush and he could also feel the heat radiating from his groin through the pale, tight jeans.

“You’re supposed to be showing the goods, Sandburg,” Jim replied sweetly.

Blair looked deeply into his eyes whilst saying lovingly,

“You bastard, Ellison.”

Jim winked as he released the door catch.

 

“Hi honey, he in a better mood tonight?”

“Hi Mandy, yeah, he’s feeling pretty good tonight.”

“Kiss me like that and I’d be in a better mood.”

Sandburg grinned and sauntered jauntily off to his spot.

 

The night was incredibly boring, cold and totally non-productive. Sandburg managed to get a ninety second conversation out of Desiree and sat with Mandy in an all night diner drinking coffee which tasted like dishwater but provided something to warm his hands on and stopped him coughing for a few minutes. Mandy mentioned that things got a little busier after the weekends and gently teased him about his ‘regulars’. Sandburg made a note to himself to tell the guys to change cars frequently, Mandy had great observational skills. 

“Would have thought weekends were busy down here,” he remarked, turning the conversation again.

“Passing trade is really bad Saturday night, most of us take the night off, it’s not worth it. I meant the warehouse guys. Monday evenings they must work a long shift or something, because, let me tell you, they stream out of that place so horny. I’m sure one or two of them wouldn’t say no to a good looking boy like you,” she said smiling, and patted his face.

Sandburg thanked her as they went back to ‘work’.

Ellison swung by an hour later and picked Sandburg up. Instead of supposedly picking up his money, he drove on.

“Jim, what’s the deal man?”

“We have Hinckle from vice in the diner, he’s keeping watch for a few. You’re wanted back at base.”

“What’s happened?”

“We had a visit from the men in black,” Ellison replied dryly.

“Shit! Already? How’d they get to hear of this so fast?”

“Simon.”

Blair looked politely disbelieving.

“Chief of Police had to OK the budget, and thought it would be a good idea to get some national funding, so he forced Simon to call in the Feds this afternoon. They’re waiting for a briefing from both of us.”

“They don’t need me to do a briefing, you could handle that.”

“They want to meet the man who set up the operation.”

 

The men in black were exactly that. Dark suits, sharp haircuts and dark glasses. Sandburg had to suppress a laugh when he saw them. A dig in the ribs from his partner settled him down.

“Sandburg, Ellison, this is Special Agent Whittiker and Special Agent Burridge,” Simon said.

“Hi,” Sandburg replied, offering his hand.

“Detective Sandburg,” Whittiker said, shaking his hand. “My complements on the set-up of the operation and the way you are handling this on the ground.”

“Thanks.” Sandburg was a little stunned.

“We’d like to offer the services of three of our own agents as well as our services. I believe we have worked out a way we can get the most efficient results.”

Now it was Ellison and Banks turns to be stunned. The feds apparently weren’t trying to take over, they were going along with the plan.

“I’d like to hear that,” Sandburg replied, trying not to sound too desperately suspicious.

Whittiker nodded to Burridge, who turned the blinds so that no-one from the bullpen could see into the office then produced three large envelopes.

“Agents Winchester and Hernandez will work well on the ground, they’ve done this type of undercover work before,” Burridge said, throwing photos from two of the envelopes on the desk. 

Two women, one pale skinned the other Latino, stared back from the photos. Both were slim and average looking, the types who could blend into a crowd easily. 

“Agent Sommersby we propose to add to the diner in place of your man. Sommersby speaks fluent Arabic as well as Spanish, Italian and English.”

The man looking out of the photograph was a green-eyed redhead around Jim’s age, maybe a little older. His face showing it’s age.

“What’s his background?” Ellison asked, seeing a familiar look in the man’s eyes.

“British born, Irish Italian parents. Has worked in the security services for a number of years. That’s all I can tell you. He’s a good operative.”

Security services, so that was the familiar look.

“Isn’t he going to stand out with a British accent?” Sandburg asked.

Burridge almost smiled. “Sommersby has an actor’s ear for accents. Don’t worry.”

“Special Agent Burridge, my partner and I are working that street, I think we have a right to worry. We want to meet these guys before you send them in,” Ellison said, his voice rising. 

He didn’t like the self assured way these two just blithely assumed their own people would fit into that neighbourhood.

A silent consultation took place between the two agents.

“Very well, Detective Ellison. You can meet them in one hour. We will tell you where and when.”

“Only if we think they’re good enough do they go in,” Ellison persisted.

“Detective, we are within our rights to take over this investigation,” Whittikar replied icily. “It is only because your partner and your team have already started this observation that we are going in on your brief. Don’t push your luck.”

“If we don’t think your team is good enough, we pull out,” Ellison snarled back. He was more than ready to blow this stake out. 

“You won’t be disappointed gentlemen,” Burridge replied. “One hour.”

Whittikar and Burridge nodded at Banks and left the office.

“When did you get made Captain?” Banks asked softly.

“Sorry Simon, but its Blair’s ass out there and mine. I am not working with these people unless I know they can do it.”

“I tell you who you can work with and who you can’t. In this case, I think you’re justified. Check them out and then report back,” Banks ordered.

 

They filled the time by going on a deli-run and tackling emails until Banks strolled over to their desks and gave them a note.

Meet in processing, eleven fifteen. 

“Short and to the point,” Jim said handing Blair his longer jacket not the short leather one he’d been wearing.

Silently they took the lift down to booking and processing. The mingled noises of many humans in various states of fear, hate and general pissed-offness grated on Jim’s ears.

Looking around Jim couldn’t see any sign of Burridge or Whittaker. Three or four hookers were being processed and a non-descript guy was whining about having to pay his parking tickets, pointing out the total injustice of being fined for parking, “for just a few feckking seconds,” to anyone who would listen. His Irish accent, a lot stronger than Murphy, the Desk Sergent’s Americanised one, sounded loud and clear throughout the room.

“Flanagan, will you just pay the bloody fine,” Murphy exploded, his face going red with his characteristic and famous temper. “You parked in a no parking zone for four bloody hours. Now pay up and don’t do it again, or I’ll have that heap towed to the wreckers yard not the police pound.”

Murphy’s comments set off another round of complaints from the Irishman Flanagan.  
The female officer finished dishing out the paperwork to a younger woman then shouted, “Sanchez!” 

One of the older women got up and walked to the desk. She had also been giving voice to her thoughts on how the police should be out arresting the real criminals, not poor women out trying to make a living. The officer looked bored by the monologue. 

“They’re not here,” Sandburg said, stating the obvious. “It’s twenty after eleven.”

“Give it a couple more minutes,” Ellison said. 

The younger woman, who had already been booked, was looking at Jim, her eyes sending out unmistakable invitations.

Sandburg had to give her an ‘A’ for chutzpah, soliciting in the precinct was really pushing the boat out. Her older companion, Sanchez, who had now been booked, followed the direction of her gaze then smiled and bent down to whisper something in her ear. The younger woman glared at Sandburg then at Ellison, the older woman continued to smile.  
“Think he’s brought his own… entertainment,” Jim heard her say. He suppressed his smile. ‘Too right lady,’ he thought to himself. ‘And he’s a hell of a lot classier than you.’

The complaining Irishman cut across Ellison’s line of vision.

“I ask you sir, is it right? Being held to ransom for parking charges, taking me car so I’m late for me new job….”

“Flanagan! Get out!” Murphy yelled without looking up from his paperwork.

Still grumbling Flanagan took himself off. The two women filed past next, the younger one stony faced, the older winking as she went past Sandburg. 

“You got great taste, honey,” she whispered.

Sandburg put his head down to hide his smile, not that that would serve to hide his amusement from his Sentinel.

“That’s it,” Ellison said. “We’re going.”

 

The ride back up to the bullpen was silent as was the trip into Banks office.

“Captain, they didn’t….” Ellison got no further on seeing Burridge and Whittiker sitting in Banks’ office.

“Your note said to meet downstairs in processing, where were you?” Ellison asked, his tone not particularly pleasant.

Burridge lifted his eyebrows politely.

“Sorry for the mis-understanding Detective. You weren’t meeting us down there, you were meeting Sommersby, Hernandez and Winchester. What do you think of our three agents, Detectives?”

Ellison opened his mouth then shut it with an audible click. At the same time he heard an intake of breath beside him.

“Flanagan?” Sandburg asked.

Whittaker leaned forward and placed three photos, one after the other, on Simon’s desk.

“Calum Flanagan, Eva Linnett, Maria Sanchez.”

The three faces looking back at them were the ones they had just ‘met’ downstairs.

“Damn, they’re good!” Sandburg said, his admiration evident.

“Detective Ellison?”

Jim nodded. 

 

Within ten minutes of Jim dropping Sandburg off, ‘Sanchez’ and ‘Linnett’ had moved in on the opposite side of the road to Mandy and Desiree. Blair observed the quickly escalating turf war which broke out with delighted interest. The two federal agents were incredibly good. Sanchez, even going so far as to flip her short skirt up at Mandy, when she was getting into a pick-up’s car. As a combined gesture of disdain and challenge it was perfect.

Reluctantly he pulled his attention back to the warehouse. A faint light was on near the top of the building, but there was no other sign of life.  
During the night, other lights went on, but none of them stayed on for longer than a few minutes. It looked as if a security guard were making his rounds but Sandburg knew no security guard was employed there.

 

“Jim, when’s your next pick-up with Sandburg?” Simon asked quietly

“Couple of hours. Why?”

“Uniform have attended North Shore Mosque tonight. Prowler. Can you go over and have a look around, if you know what I mean.”

Ellison nodded.

“I’ll meet up with you at three thirty. Should give you plenty of time to get across town for Sandburg.”

General police radio silence for the warehouse operation and anything to do with the Mosques was in force, so Jim’s report would be made in person.  
He reached North Short Mosque without incident, chose a reasonably darkened spot to park and settled in to give the place his special brand of investigation. He could hear the sound of several sleeping heartbeats within the building but nothing further out. The prowler would appear to be keeping out of the way, if indeed it was a prowler. A cloud cleared the face of the moon, allowing its light to shine down. Jim was in a perfect position to see a silvery moonlit path form across the water. It looked like it went on forever, tiny wavelets peaking, making the light sparkle and shift.  
The world around him disappeared as, for the second night, in a row, Jim slid gently and quietly into a zone. 

 

“Jim will you wake up!!” 

The exasperated and worried whisper made Jim blink. He was no longer looking at the sparkling moonlight on the water but instead he was looking into his boss’s worried brown eyes.

“Jim? You with me here?”

“Yeah, I’m fine Simon.

“No you’re not! I’ve been trying to get you to respond for over an hour! What the hell is wrong with you Jim? You’ve not gone into a zone for months, why now?”

“I’m sorry Simon.” Jim winced, an expression not lost on Simon.

“Is it because Sandburg isn’t here?”

“Yes, no. I don’t know!”

“Whatever it is, Jim, get it fixed! Now, before you went on your jaunt to la-la land, did you find anything?”

 

Jim drove like a man possessed, despite the raging headache which had him in its iron grip. And he was correct when he got there, Sandburg was pissed.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. Sorry Sandburg, got held up.”

Sandburg looked at him.

“You want to try that again?”

“Cut it out Sandburg! Do you have anything for me?”

“Someone inside, not much activity.” He paused, accurately assessing Ellison. 

“How’s the headache?”

There seemed to be little point in lying.

“Not good,” he grudgingly admitted.

“Gimme the keys.”

“Where are we going?” Ellison asked as Sandburg drove.

“Home.”

“We’ve still got a couple of hours on shift.”

“There are three federal agents also watching the building, in case you didn’t notice. I’ll call Simon when we get home.”

Simon was most unlike his normal self when Sandburg told him they’d knocked off for the night, even going so far as to tell him they deserved some rest.

 

Sandburg was in a quandary. Normally when Jim got a headache like this he’d give him a massage, get him to reset his pain dial and that would be that but now, he shouldn’t touch him. He sighed, trying to think of a way around this. The shower went off, Jim emerging and saying quietly,

“All yours Sandburg. I’m going to bed.”

Blair nodded. Scrubbing himself down he brushed against the shower curtain, which gave him an idea. Quickly finishing his shower he almost ran across to his room, the change in temperature from warm and humid to cool and dry making him cough. He turned out a couple of drawers looking for his old first aid kit which contained latex gloves. Finding it he took out the gloves. Hurriedly he dried and dressed himself and grabbing the bottle of oil went up to Jim’s room.  
Jim almost smiled when he saw the gloves but turned over gratefully.

 

Even though Blair spent a good forty five minutes on the massage, Jim was still as tense as ever, which meant, in Jimspeak, he was still in pain. It was the first time this hadn’t worked; it was also the first time there hadn’t been skin to skin contact. Fascinating in the theory department, but it didn’t help much.

“Sorry man,” Blair said sadly still sitting on the edge of Jim’s bed.

“Thanks for trying,” Jim said softly.

Sandburg was almost crying in frustration. This just felt so wrong now.  
The snap of latex warned Jim before he felt warm oiled hands gliding over his shoulders. Neither man said a word but within a very few minutes the tension left the muscles under Sandburg’s hands. A few minutes later Jim was asleep, relaxed and pain free. Sandburg sat back on his heels. This not touching each other was causing problems, big problems. When this case was finished, Sandburg was determined he was going to have a long chat with his Sentinel.  
Quietly going downstairs he went into the bathroom to wash the oil from his hands. And, as Jim was asleep, he also took the opportunity to give himself another injection before the itching skin started.

 

Before going into the work the next day, as food was becoming a scarce commodity in the loft, Jim decided they needed to do a grocery run. When Sandburg saw the stale looking fruit and vegetables in the store he more or less bullied Jim into going to the small market further out of town which was held every Thursday. He grumbled but agreed. The route took them past Rainer but Sandburg didn’t even turn his head and look at the buildings.

The trip was worth it, as the quality of the food was far better. Good naturedly bantering over the merits of dark green cabbage over the lighter kind, Blair was surprised to feel a hand drop onto his shoulder and a voice saying,

“Just the two gentlemen I’ve been trying to get hold of!”

He turned.

“Sarah!”

“Hi guys,” she smiled, her face showing her genuine happiness at seeing them. “I’ve been trying to call you, but your phone seems to be out.”

“Seems OK, do you have the right number?”

She quoted their old number back to them. Jim had had the number changed after the diss fiasco.

“I thought I’d sent you the new number,” Sandburg said, puzzled. 

He could remember writing out the note to Sarah.

“I didn’t receive it. Anyway, never mind now. I need you two to come and see me. A final check up.”

“Well, we’re kinda busy at the moment,” Ellison replied, trying to sound firm.

“Won’t take more than a quarter of an hour. We’re very near my lab. Come on, I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Can we just finish picking up the groceries,” Sandburg pleaded, sounding like a little boy. Unlike Ellison he knew when he was beaten.

 

Sandburg felt like a criminal creeping into the lab the back way but it was the quickest way into the lab. Sarah was true to her word; it didn’t take any more then fifteen minutes to draw blood from both of them.

“I’ll get this analysed and get back to you with the results. Now I have your new number.”

“Sorry about that Sarah, I really thought I’d sent it across to you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you in a day or so.”

 

Outside Sandburg turned to Ellison and asked in a deceptively quiet voice,

“How many phone number change notes didn’t you post?”

“I must of forgot to post them,” he muttered, not meeting Sandburg’s eyes.

“Jim, don’t lie to me on top of everything else!”

“Who’s lying? I just forgot. It was kinda crazy around then.”

“Was it just the ones for Rainier?”

Ellison picked up the pace heading back for the truck. Sandburg shut his eyes and breathed out a calming breath. He wondered just what else his knuckle-headed partner had secretly done to try and protect him. Not that he was likely to find out the full extent in this lifetime!

 

As soon as they left the lab Sarah took the samples, added markers and reagents and checked the blood. Sandburg’s sample was virtually devoid of the virus, Ellison’s still had a good amount circulating but it was much reduced from when she’d first run the tests. Resisting the temptation to do a happy dance, she set up another set of general blood tests which would give her a more complete picture and add to the data she had already collected. With Sandburg’s cold she expected his white blood cell count would give a high reading but she could add in a footnote about his respiratory infection. She ran Ellison’s samples through the machine to get a complete blood count, noting down the results and checking back on her previous notes. His white cell count was quite a bit down from last time, but it was still within the ‘normal’ range. By this time it was after five thirty. Sarah straightened up in her chair and decided it was coffee time. She could finish Sandburg’s tests tonight and phone them afterwards. For a few minutes she indulged herself in fantasies of winning the Nobel Prize for saving humanity from an unknown plague. The fantasy ended with the coffee and the biscuits before she went back to finish off processing Sandburg’s blood sample. Her mind began to drift after the first couple of tests were normal, long familiarity with the process lulling her. Checking the next value on the printout brought her back to reality rather sharply. She turned back to her notes on the values for Sandburg’s previous white count; normal for a male of his age and physical status. The new white count was desperately low, not high, which with his respiratory infection is what she had been expecting. An icy lump formed in her stomach. No, this must be a mistake. She reset the analyser, extracted more blood from Sandburg’s sample and re-ran the tests. Same result. The cold from the icy lump spread up her chest and into her jaw.

“Oh shit!” she whispered to herself, sitting down suddenly. 

Sandburg’s immune system was compromised, badly so. She forced herself to go over Ellison’s results again. The virus in his sample was down by around thirty percent, his white count had dropped by fifteen percent, a two to one ratio. Sandburg’s viral level was virtually non-existent and his white count had dropped over fifty percent. Still a two to one ratio but his ability to fight off opportunistic infections was now seriously reduced.

“Shit!” she muttered again. 

Was it the anti-virus?

Quickly she took a blood sample from herself. She had injected herself with the anti-virus. Running her blood through the analyser seemed to take forever but finally the results were printed. She added the viral marker to another sample which showed no virus present. Her own white count was down from previous values but not to the extent of Ellison and certainly nowhere near that of Sandburg. She had only given herself two injections. She had given the two men three injections - and sent them off with a bottle of the stuff just in case. Forcing herself to think rationally she decided to test their blood for any other agent which was known to affect the immune system, up to and including HIV. She knew the lab had a supply of rapid HIV tests and went to liberate two of them from stores. 

 

By the time midnight rolled around she had run just about every test she could think of; they had all come back negative including HIV. The only explanation was the anti-virus not only destroyed the virus but also destroyed the body’s immune response as well. She didn’t even know if it were permanent or a temporary side-effect. First of all she had to get Sandburg to his own doctor to get that infection treated with antibiotics and she had to tell them to stop taking the anti-virus, immediately. With a heavy heart she picked up the telephone and dialled. After the third time of getting the answer machine she finally left a message trying not to be too alarmist but at the same time trying to convey urgency about calling her back.

 

There was a lot more activity at the warehouse that night. From around ten p.m. trucks kept rolling up every hour, sometimes singly, sometimes in twos. All were let in but none of them came out. Sandburg sent out word through his wire to suspend his pick-ups until further notice. By around four am on Friday morning the trucks were no longer driving into the warehouse. He’d counted at least ten trucks going into the cavernous space. Taking the opportunity Sandburg walked across to the diner. He grabbed a large cup of coffee to warm up. Flanagan was the only one serving but there were a few guys in drinking coffee and eating so the opportunity to speak with the agent was not going to happen. He used the john and passed on via his wire that his pick-ups should resume.

 

By the time he finished the coffee and got back to his spot Rafe was arriving. He got into the car and said,

“Tell Simon and Jim I think they’re going to start moving the stuff out on Sunday morning, early. It’ll take a while to load up the trucks, and the girls who work this stretch say Saturday night is a washout for passing trade. Even the diner closes early. It’ll be quiet then.”

“OK, I’ll pass it on. There’s some sandwiches in the bag. You can stop the sniffing now, I know you don’t have a habit.”

“Sorry man, I can’t. It’s this cold, it just won’t quit,” he complained.

Rafe leaned forward and put the heating on high. In his opinion Sandburg shouldn’t be on this gig; he didn’t look well, which worked for the rentboy with a habit to feed persona, but wasn’t a good look for a working police officer. Watching him wolf the sandwiches down, he reflected the cold hadn’t affected his appetite that badly.  
Rafe pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Sandburg.

“A Mr Al-Sadawe has been trying to contact you since yesterday morning,” Rafe told him. “He wants to speak with you and only you.”

“He won’t speak to Jim?”

Rafe shook his head.

“OK. Guess it’ll have to be me then! I’ll call him tomorrow.”

“Don’t think he’d appreciate you calling at this time in the morning,” Rafe smiled

 

At the end of the shift Jim drove them both back to Major Crimes for a briefing with Simon and the rest of the team, the three federal field agents joining them a few minutes later. It seemed strange to Sandburg to hear Sommersby’s natural, well spoken American with a faint hint of British, accent after hearing him playing Flanagan. Hernandez and Winchester had managed to find time to change out of their streetwear and into jeans and sweaters. Both women were complaining about the cold. They nodded to Sandburg and smiled. The group of officers numbered around fifty.

Simon stood up and began the meeting, his booming voice effectively silencing the group. The men in the office across the street had picked up a lot of conversation with their directional mikes. The pure opium had been converted over the last week and then cut. After the trucks rolled in, lots of movement and sounds of boxes being loaded. From the translation of the conversation the swap for arms was taking place out of state. No word on exactly where, so, it had been decided to stop the drug shipment here rather than run the risk of losing both drugs and arms.

Jim unrolled a large scale plan of the warehouse and its surrounding environment. By Saturday afternoon all exits would be covered, Sandburg, Hernandez and Winchester would arrive at their usual times but they would be wearing transmit and receive wires. Sommersby, as Flanagan, would close the diner at the usual time for a Saturday, which was 9 pm but would remain on the premises. The word to go in would be given by Simon.  
“Any questions?”

It was a simple, easy to follow plan, there were no questions.

 

Ellison led the way back to their desks, handing his partner a thick wool sweater he had brought with him from the loft.

“Jim, you are a saint!” Sandburg said, ecstatically worming his way into the garment.

“How about some breakfast, I’m starved?” Jim asked.

At that point Sandburg caught sight of the mountain of mail on his desk.

“I’ve suddenly gone off the idea,” he replied, figuring it would take him weeks to wade through that lot.

Jim grinned and walked away. Sighing Sandburg sat behind his desk and made a start. He sorted the departmental stuff into one pile and the external into another then began going through the external mail. An envelope addressed in an unfamiliar hand caught his eye. Opening it he extracted a plastic bank coin bag and a handwritten sheet of paper.

“Detective Sandbug, I am sending these to you. I found them after we had an intruder in the grounds of the Mosque.”

Blair looked at the coin bag. Several cubes of a brownish substance, some squashed out of shape, were in the bag. 

“I wished to speak to you about this but could not do so. I think the intruder is watching the Mosque perhaps looking for these.

Mohammed Al-Sadawe”

Without a word Sandburg abandoned his desk and went down to forensics. Less than half an hour later he was back with a printout and the letter. 

“Hey Sandburg, where you been? I brought breakfast,” Jim said as he saw his partner walk back into the bullpen.

“Thanks Jim, come with me,” he replied, grabbing his partner’s arm and towing him along.

“Simon, you need to see this,” Sandburg said, without preamble.

Burridge looked up.

Taking both papers Simon quickly read them  
.  
“Looks like the man in the Nissan is purveying samples. Assuming we get a bust this evening Sandburg, go back and see Al-Sadawe. Try and find out how far he’s involved.”

“I could be wrong but I get the impression his Mosque is being used and he isn’t involved, but I’ll check him out.”

 

Between eating breakfast, sorting through the rest of the mail and finishing reports, it was after midday by the time Ellison and Sandburg got chance to get back to the loft for some sleep. The answer machine light was blinking furiously. Dropping his keys in the basket Ellison pressed the button. Several sales calls, which Jim immediately deleted, followed by three silent messages then Sarah asking them to call her back and not to take any more of the anti-virus concoction.

“I only took what she gave me anyway,” Jim muttered. “You want a beer or a hot drink?”

“Hot drink please,” Sandburg replied from his room. He was hunting out his warmest sweatpants and top to sleep in before he took a shower and hadn’t heard Sarah’s voice.

Jim had made hot chocolate with cream and little marshmallows by the time Sandburg had showered and redressed himself. They settled at the kitchen table to enjoy the hot sweet, comforting liquid.

“That was fantastic,” Sandburg sighed, licking the last drops out of his cup.

“You want some more?” Jim asked, half getting out of his seat.

“No thanks. That was just enough. I’m going to hit the sack. See you later Jim.”

“Night Sandburg.”

“Afternoon really.”

“Smart ass!”

“Putz!”

 

For a few seconds after Sandburg shut the door into his room, Ellison debated with himself whether to phone Sarah or to leave it. His tiredness won; he took a quick shower and went to bed to grab a few hours sleep before he had to be back at work.  
It was a good idea but try as he might he could not sleep well because of the sniffing and coughing emanating from the room under the stairs. Growling Ellison turned over and punched his pillow, put in ear plugs as well as switching on the white noise generator and generally tried to ignore his room mate. As soon as he got to sleep all he dreamt about was a sad faced Incacha mourning ‘the light’ which then woke him up where he could hear Sandburg sniffing and coughing. Jim counted three cycles of this before he finally fell into a dreamless sleep.

Far too few hours later when Jim’s alarm went off he stumbled from his bed and set about making them both a good meal to set them up for the night ahead. When Sandburg hadn’t awoken to the smell of bacon, eggs and toast Ellison went into his room. Sandburg was asleep on his side, dead to the world.

“Hey Junior, time to rise and shine,” he said softly, stroking his hair. 

Eventually a very sleepy pair of blue eyes opened and looked up at him.

“It can’t be time to get up already?”

“’Fraid so. Breakfast is ready.”

Ellison left the little room not noticing the wince as Blair tried to move. He coughed and held his chest, which had begun to ache like a bitch. Pulling on an extra sweater he stumbled out of his room and into the kitchen. Without a word Ellison handed him a cup of coffee and a ready made algae shake. Taking a good look at his partner and having heard him cough and sniff all night, Ellison said,

“Blair, if you’re not up to going in tonight I’ll square it with Simon.”

Blair put down his cup.

“You have got to be kidding me. After all the work I put into this, not to mention flashing my ass and chest for the sake of Cascade PD?”

Ellison held his hands palm out.

“Just an idea. You don’t sound so good. I think you should see a doctor. That cold has hung on far too long.”

“Probably just caught one cold after another. I’ll be OK,” he replied, sounding a lot calmer than he felt.

Jim grunted and served up the food. Sandburg tried his best with the breakfast but couldn’t manage more than a piece of bacon and a slice of toast.

“Something wrong with the eggs?” Jim asked around a mouthful.

“No, just got enough with the meat and carbs,” Sandburg replied, swallowing down the last of his toast with his oj. “Time we were moving, big guy.”

“Mmm,” Jim replied intelligently, trying to finish his food off quickly. 

He dumped the crockery in the sink and grabbed his coat, as Sandburg came out of his room with his rucksack of street clothes. He was dressed in a thick sweater, shirt, jeans and boots along with his longer winter coat. Behind him Jim smirked at the sight as he locked the door. Getting in the truck Jim started driving for the precinct. Up in the loft the telephone rang, as the answer machine cut in Sarah’s anxious voice could be heard.

 

There seemed to be lots to do once they got to the precinct. Sandburg tried to call Al-Sadawe, but got his answering machine. Simon and Burridge were having a competition to see who could bellow at their own teams the loudest. Ellison’s money was on Banks. Hernandez and Winchester were changed into their streetclothes, hidden under long coats when they saw Sandburg still in his jeans and sweater.

“Hey, street boy, you need to get your working clothes on,” Hernandez shouted in a powerful Latino accent, very different from her usual voice.

Sandburg checked his watch, picked up his rucksack and ran to the john. He stopped just inside, his hand out on the wall to steady himself. The short run from the bullpen to the john had made him dizzy. The dizzy spell passed quite fast, which was lucky as Ellison barged in to strap on his wire. After Ellison left he hurried through his dressing routine. The ache in his chest hadn’t subsided much. He guessed the cough was turning to bronchitis. Definitely going to be on antibiotics after tonight, he grimly thought to himself. A knock on the door startled him.

 

“Sandburg, you ready in there?” Ellison asked.

Sandburg opened the door and stepped out.

“My, my, we are inpatient tonight!”

Ellison grinned and cuffed him gently.

 

As they crossed town Ellison became more and more tense. The weather was cold and it had begun to rain needle sharp ice. Drawing up at their usual drop-off point, Ellison changed his mind and drove further down the road than usual. He stopped opposite the warehouse and beside the doorway to an office block. 

“Shelter in the porch Blair,” Ellison said. “You’ve still got a view.”

When Sandburg didn’t say anything he turned to look at his Guide. A strange, soft smile moulded his lips. Without thinking he cupped Sandburg’s face in his hand.

“Be safe.” It was almost a command.

Blair briefly turned into the caress, the spell breaking when he opened the door and exited the car. Ellison watched until he saw Blair sheltering in the porch then slowly drove away. He had the stupidest idea that that was the last time he would speak to Sandburg.

 

Nine o’clock arrived. Flanagan put the closed sign up on the diner door and locked it, turning off the lights at the front of the room. Time dragged by. Ten, eleven then Sandburg heard midnight strike. It was silent, very, very few passing cars. Mandy was right, Saturday night down here was a washout. He tried to cough quietly but failed miserably. He could see the two girls sheltering further up the street and wondered if they were as cold as he felt. A light went on in the warehouse. From inside he could hear a motor start up, then another.

“Simon,” he whispered into collar. “I can hear motors starting.”

The sound became fainter not louder. Then a metallic creak and the shudder of a metal wall going up. Suddenly he knew what they were doing. The trucks were driving out of the other warehouse entrance and people were leaving through the side gate. In his ear he heard Simon shouting,

“Go, go, go!”

Hernandez and Winchester erupted from their shelter. Sandburg shot across the road just ahead of them. The men in Gibson’s alley at the side of the diner looked around in surprise. Shouts from all sides erupted.

“Cascade PD, freeze!”

“Federal Agents, put down your weapon!”

Sandburg sensed Hernandez and Winchester a little behind him, Sommersby to his left. His head began to spin as he fought for breath after the brief run across the street. The seven men in front of them, as one, brought up hands suddenly filled with guns and began to fire at the police coming at them from either end of the alley. At the roar of gunfire, the three feds threw themselves to the side, Sandburg wasn’t so fast; he felt a brief burn across the right side of his head, so hot it felt cold, then his opposite shoulder connected with the middle in the line of dumpsters at the side of the diner and he was falling into nothingness. A final clang as the metal bins closed together once his body fell between them then he heard nothing more.

Savage gunfire raked down both sides of the alley. The gunmen from the warehouse had not been expecting such solid resistance as they exited and were caught unprepared. Unprepared but not unarmed. The street lighting wasn’t good in the alley but the lights from the police vehicles threw harsh shadows forward, outlining the side profiles of the police officers moving forwards. The gunmen took full advantage of the help in targeting, shooting at anything; shadow, body, brick wall or imagination. Bullets ricocheting from the tarmac as well as the buildings made it tough to avoid being hit. The roar of many hand guns firing at once echoed and re-echoed through Gibson’s alley, deafening Jim who was situated at the opposite end of the alley from Sandburg. The stink of gun oil and cordite filled his nose and mouth deadening his sense of smell and taste. He felt as if all his sinus passages had been packed with the cotton wadding he used to clean his gun. He shook his head trying to clear the over stimulus to his senses. The lights hurt his eyes, the smell made him sneeze and the noise threatened to send him into a protective foetal ball. With an effort he hung on, hearing Sandburg’s voice in his mind telling him to dial it down. Reaching for those elusive dials, using what he had learned with Blair he felt the lights become normal and the noise was less damaging enabling him to do his job. Even in memory the sound of Blair could calm and help him control his wayward senses. 

The main group of the police were holed up at the back of the warehouse stopping the trucks from leaving the building. Stopping the first one was the trick, the rest just backed up until the last three more enterprising souls at the rear decided turning around and leaving the way they had entered would be in their own best interests. 

Banks had already foreseen that one and had left a smaller welcoming party for them. The seven men in the alley were the ones who were literally deadly serious about leaving. One man went down fast, one of his companions then went down from a ricochet; a third was wounded when he shot at Banks, missed and nicked Ellison on the hip. Both Ellison, Banks, several more police officers and the federal agents returned fire. The remaining four, one by one, dropped their weapons.  
It was over in a surprisingly short time a fact for which Ellison felt profoundly grateful. The stinging pain in his side felt like a million hot needles were being threaded through his muscles. He struggled to locate his pain dial, expecting at any moment to feel a familiar hand on his back soothing him and guiding him. Instead a much heavier hand landed.

”You OK Jim?” Banks asked.

“Yeah. Yeah sure,” he lied looking around him. It was bedlam; federal agents making arrests as well as police.

“Start taking these gentlemen downtown. I foresee a long night of paperwork ahead!”

 

Down at the precinct it was even worse. None of the men arrested claimed to speak English which made the processing even longer as they had to wait for interpreters. Sommersby and Burridge were pressed into service as a stop gap measure for translation purposes. Ellison shouted as he went past the bullpen,

“Hey H, find Sandburg, he speaks the lingo.”

“Sure thing Jim,” H replied, then added under his breath, ‘Just as soon as I get chance to breathe.’

Ellison turned and glared, then carried on shepherding his prisoner to an interview room.

 

By five twenty in the morning, the wait for police approved interpreters was dragging the length of time for processing into hours. Jim was tired and irritable. His side hurt, he had the headache from hell and he still hadn’t located Sandburg.

“H! Where did you put Sandburg,” Ellison growled, striding across the bullpen.

“I didn’t put him anywhere.”

“I thought I told you to find him, he can speak Arabic.”

“I couldn’t find him. I thought he was with you.”

“Well he’s not. We could do with his help.”

“Jim, I’ve not seen him since the action went down at the warehouse.”

Jim frowned then caught sight of Winchester passing in the corridor.

“Winchester, you seen Sandburg?”

“Sorry Jim, no. Didn’t he come back with you?” she asked.

Ellison could feel the ghostly fingers of panic tickling his ribs.

“No. I haven’t seen him since I dropped him outside the warehouse. Simon! You seen Sandburg?”

“Thought he caught a ride with you?” Simon replied.

“No, he didn’t. I was escorting prisoners. Try his wire, maybe he’s still wearing it.”

Simon picked up the microphone,

“Sandburg, you receiving me?”

A long silence met his question.

“Detective Sandburg, are you receiving me?”

Jim swallowed hard. He knew Blair hadn’t taken his mobile phone onto the street.

“Comms room Jim. They can trace the wire,” Simon ordered, leaving the bullpen at a dead run followed by Winchester. Ellison still beat them to the communications room by a good two minutes.

“Stillson, Sandburg’s wire, can you trace it?” he asked as soon as he barged into the room.

Stillson pulled up a copy of the asset number and copied it into the trace program.

 

“His wire is in… Gibson’s alley,” he reeled off, as a blinking white light pinpointed the position of the transmitter.

Ellison felt close to passing out.

“Jim, he might just have lost his wire,” Simon tried to reassure him.

“Simon, no-one has seen him back here.”

“Forensics will still be around there. Stillson, get me the crime scene supervisor.”

“Sir.”

A minute later a woman’s voice came over speaker.

“Captain Banks, Supervisor Miller here, what can I do for you?”

“We’re a man down after tonight. We’ve pinpointed his wire in Gibson’s Alley. Can you check it’s just his wire there?”

“Which end of the alley?” Miller asked.

“Laurenson end,” Stillson replied, bringing up greater detail on his street map.

“OK, give me a few minutes.”

They could hear Miller asking for lights to be brought up and then she was telling her officers they were hopefully looking for a wire then Miller closed the microphone. 

Jim waited in painful limbo. It felt like hours later when Miller opened the mike again.

“Captain Banks, we’ve got a body. He’d fallen behind the dumpsters it looks like he’s been shot in the head.”

Banks hand on Jim’s arm was the only thing keeping him upright as he swayed in shock from the news.

A few seconds silence then Miller’s incredulous voice over the speaker.

“He’s alive! He’s unconscious but he’s got a pulse and he’s breathing. Get an air ambulance to this location.”

Jim didn’t wait to hear more. He knew there was one hospital in the city which had helicopter facilities on the roof and he was going to be meeting that helicopter. Banks let him go, knowing it would be useless to tell him to wait.

 

Abandoning his truck in the hospital car park, Jim leapt out and went straight into the emergency room. He’d seen the helicopter land a few minutes ago. The receptionist on duty recognised Jim from their many previous visits.

“Blair’s just arrived, Jim.”

Ellison didn’t spare her more than a glance. He knew where his Guide was and he could hear how much difficulty he was having breathing, his heart rate was erratic too. Walking through the security guards as if they didn’t exist he strode into the examination room.

“Detective Ellison, what kept you?” 

The sarcasm of Dr Packard was totally lost on Ellison. He only had eyes and ears for Blair. Ellison took in the blood covering most of Blair’s face and the terrible sounds his lungs were making as they laboured to provide oxygen to the rest of his body. 

Packard took one look at the expression on Ellison’s face and decided trying to evict him would be a waste of time and effort. Ever the professional he also noticed the bloodstain over the hip of his trousers.

“Is that blood on your trousers all yours, Detective?” Packard asked, keeping most of his attention on Sandburg whilst three nurses worked around him taking Blair’s vital signs and connecting him to monitors.

“I got nicked, that’s all.”

Packard nodded.

“That makes two of you. Detective Sandburg was grazed by a bullet, but scalp wounds tend to bleed a lot. Do you know how long he was out in the rain?” he asked, noting the soaking clothing.

“Two, three hours.”

“How long has he been coughing?”

“Couple of days. Is he going to be OK?”

Packard continued to sound Sandburg’s chest, then he had two of the nurses lift him so he could listen at his back too. He took his temperature with an electronic probe in Sandburg’s ear, studied the read out and waited a moment before answering.

“The gunshot wound is not serious. However, he is hypothermic and he has pneumonia, which is serious.” 

“Pneumonia?”

Packard turned to one of the nurses and ordered a series of tests. 

“It’s treatable Jim,” Packard replied then turning to speak to the male nurse he said, 

“Let’s get him warmed up, standard hypothermia treatment. Do you still hold his medical power of attorney?” Packard asked Jim.

Jim nodded.

“I want to start him on a large dose of penicillin to get that infection under control. Has he had any reactions to antibiotics?”

“No. He’s not allergic.”

Packard nodded and spoke to a nurse. “Check his records first, if there are no contra indications, get him started on two thousand units of penicillin, IV. And then get a med tray and clean up the bullet graze on Detective Ellison.”

“I’m fine,” Jim snapped. “Keep working on Sandburg.”

“In here, Detective, I am king,” Packard replied, his confidence in his own position unassailable. “You will be no good to your partner if that wound tract becomes infected. You can go next door and then come back in here when you’re done.”

Packard held his gaze not giving an inch as two nurses began to strip the wet clothes from Sandburg’s too cold and wet body.

 

Ellison was back in Sandburg’s exam room as fast as possible. Sandburg was now out of his own clothes and into a hospital provided gown, two heating blankets, one under him the other over him were doing their job on his hypothermia. With the blood cleaned from his face his skin around the oxygen mask looked bruised, a translucent blue white. An IV stand was set up and a shunt had already been put into the back of his hand and bandaged in place. Packard was checking his temperature again.

“How’s he doing?” Jim asked.

“His temperature is coming up slowly, which is what we want. Was he on any medication from his own doctor?”

Jim shook his head.

“He didn’t sound so good when he went into work, but he wanted to go, he’d put so much effort in to this operation.”

Packard nodded as he studied the printout of the tests he had ordered.

“Nurse, can you give Detective Ellison and me a minute please?”

The young male nurse left the exam room. 

”Sit down Jim,” Packard said calmly, which did nothing to dispel Jim’s premonition of doom.

“I need to ask you some personal questions about Blair.”

“What?”

“There’s nothing on his medical records but I need to ask if Blair is HIV positive?”

“No! No, he’s not. He would have told me if he were, we live… I mean we’re room mates and friends as well as partners. Why did you ask that?”

“His white count is very low, abnormally low. With that level of chest infection it should be sky high. His body isn’t fighting the invading bugs at all.”

“What else could cause that, apart from HIV?”

“I don’t know. We’ll need to run tests.” Packard waited a beat. “You’re sure there is no chance he could be HIV and not know it.”

Jim thought back to how he’d found out Sandburg was bi-sexual; Chris Wilding, Sandburg’s English buddy and sometime lover. He could vouch for Sandburg but he didn’t know Chris’s history. Guiltily remembering some of the women he’d slept with as well, he had the thought it might not be any of Sandburg’s male lovers, if he was HIV, he might have become infected through him, even though they’d always been careful and used protection.

“You’d better test him,” Jim replied at length.

Packard nodded again, and turned to go.

“Doc!”

He turned and waited.

“You’d better test me too,” Jim said, unable to meet the other man’s eyes.

Packard’s expression never altered.

“I’ll get the test kits and do them myself.”

 

Jim took his chair and sat by the head of Sandburg’s bed. Leaning over he ran his hand across Sandburg’s cheek. The skin under his fingertips was cool, too cool. Just to reassure himself, Jim tuned into his heartbeat. It was slow, even if Sandburg had been merely sleeping instead of unconscious, it was still too slow. The young male nurse re-entered the room and hung a clear bag on the IV stand running the tube into the shunt and taped it down.  
Packard came back with two test kits and had the nurse set up a med tray on a portable stand. He took Jim’s blood then took some of Sandburg’s blood. 

“I’ve made arrangements to move Blair to a clean room,” Packard told Jim gently.

“OK,” Jim said, not really listening. He was too busy beating himself up for not realising sooner that his partner had been shot and left outside to get hypothermia and pneumonia.

“I’ll give you a couple of minutes to sit with him then we need to get him moved.”

“I’m sitting with him where ever you take him,” Jim stated.

“You can’t go into the clean room, Jim. It’s just that, a clean room. The fewer people who go in there, the better Blair’s chances of not catching another opportunistic infection will be.”

“I can’t be with him?”

“You can sit outside the viewing portal but you can’t sit next to him. I’m sorry. They’ll be here with a gurney to move him in a couple of minutes.” 

He put a hand on Jim’s shoulder, feeling desperately sorry for the big man, although his face didn’t show it. Packard motioned the nurse to leave the room and followed him. 

Jim picked up Sandburg’s lax hand and gently held it between his.

“I’m sorry Blair, I’m so sorry. I should never have let you go into work last night, I knew you were ill.” 

He wiped his filling eyes with the heel of his hand and wiped it down the side of his trousers. As he looked at the beloved face before him through his tears he thought he could see the skin around his eyes swelling. He wiped his eyes again. The skin around Sandburg’s eyes was definitely swelling, it wouldn’t be visible to anyone else yet, but it was there. His ears picked up strange rattling noises from his lungs at almost the same time. Sandburg’s lungs were filling with fluid. Ellison stood up shouting,

“Packard! Somebody!”

The male nurse entered.

“What is it?”

“There’s something wrong, his eyes are swelling and his lungs are filling up.”

The nurse couldn’t see any change.

“I think you’re mistaken,” he said.

Ellison leaned over and pulled the IV needle out of the shunt.

“Don’t do that!” the nurse shouted, trying to take the needle and re-insert it.

“What’s going on?” Packard shouted seeing the melee in progress.

“Detective Ellison took the IV out.”

“He’s having a reaction, stop giving him the penicillin,” Jim shouted back at the same time.

Packard took out his stethoscope but looking down he could see the swelling on Sandburg’s face happening fast.

“Oh fuck!” he muttered under his breath, checking his patient’s breathing all the same. “He’s going into respiratory arrest. Five cc’s of epi, stat we need to bag him,” 

he shouted at the nurse as he reached for the equipment drawer and a tube to get an airway in.

The nurse reached for the epinephrine and punched the alarm which would bring the crash team running. Within seconds the room was filled with people all shouting orders and elbowing Jim out of the way. The monitor alarms were screaming too, adding to the decibel level.

“He’s crashing!”

“Five more of epi!”

“BP is seventy over forty and falling.”

“Sats are down to eighty one.”

Behind Sandburg’s head the mad squiggle on screen suddenly flattened out.

“He’s down, paddles!”

Jim watched Sandburg’s body jump as the arc of electricity shot through him. The line on the screen stayed stubbornly flat.

“Three hundred joules, clear!”

His body jumped again. The line showed the jolt, flattened then picked up, describing small upside down v’s before the sound and the visual became a steady beat.

A female doctor had her stethoscope on his chest and was taking his neck pulse too.

“He’s in sinus rhythm,” she stated. “Let’s get him into the clean room.”

Before Jim could say anything the monitors were packed around Sandburg’s body on the bed and he was wheeled out of the exam room by his new entourage, Jim trailing along at the rear. Sandburg’s face was almost unrecognisable it was so swollen. His eyes looked like someone had put ping pong balls under his eyelids. The speed of the reaction was frightening. Three doctors and a nurse took Sandburg into the preparation room. They changed themselves into full clean body suits, hats and masks then stripped Sandburg of his gown, supported him whilst the pressure wave flowed over them then carried him to his new bed. He was dressed in a white gown and stowed decently under the sheets and heating blankets and attached to the monitors in the clean room before Packard opened the blinds so Jim could see into the room. The desolation he saw in Jim’s eyes almost made him flinch.

 

Diffidently Sarah walked up to the reception desk at the precinct.

“Excuse me, I need to speak to Detective Sandburg in Major Crimes.”

The sergeant on duty looked up.

“Is he expecting you Ma’am?”

“I believe so.”

“Your name?”

“Storrin, Dr Sarah Storrin.”

The sergeant wrote her name down in his book then picked up the telephone. After a few seconds conversation he put the phone down.

“I’m sorry Ma’am, Detective Sandburg isn’t available. Can anyone else help you?”

“Is Detective Ellison there?”

“No Ma’am. They’re both off duty right now.”

Sarah closed her eyes briefly.

“Please, it’s very important I get to speak with Detective Sandburg. I’ve tried their home address, I’ve tried his cell phone. I’m his doctor and I really need to see him.”

The sergeant considered her then said,

“Take a seat over there Ma’am and I’ll see what I can do.”

 

Fifteen minutes later a very tall black man in a suit walked over to her. He looked tired and stressed.

“Dr Storrin? I’m Captain Banks, Detectives Sandburg and Ellison work for me. Can I help?”

“I’m Sandburg’s Doctor, I really need to speak to both him and Detective Ellison. I’ve left messages for them the day before yesterday and I’ve tried their cell phones and gone to the loft but I can’t get hold of them.”

Banks assessed the woman in front of him. She was anxious, that much was obvious. Her face looked pale even under her dark skin tone. As a decent judge of character he decided to trust her.

“Sorry to tell you, Doctor, but Blair was injured in the course of duty earlier this morning. His partner is at the hospital with him.”

“Which hospital?” she asked quickly. When Banks hesitated she went on, “Please, my information could have a bearing on his treatment.”

“Cascade General. What’s the problem with Sandburg?”

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you, patient confidentiality.”

Sarah left the building fast, nearly tripping up in her haste to get to the hospital. Forty five minutes later she was pulling up a chair and sitting next to Jim who hadn’t even acknowledged her presence.

“Detective Ellison.” 

Jim didn’t look away from Sandburg in his bed. The swelling of his face was going down well but not quick enough for Jim.

“Jim, what happened?”

“They put him on penicillin for the pneumonia and he had a bad reaction to it.”

“Captain Banks said he’d been hurt in the course of duty.”

“He was; he got a bullet crease in the head. None of us knew. He accidentally got left behind when we were taking a lot of prisoners in. He’d been out in the rain and cold for hours by the time he was found.”

“And he’d already developed pneumonia,” Sarah said softly to herself.

“It’s my fault. I should have kept a check on him. I knew he wasn’t well last night. His body isn’t fighting the infection and they don’t know why.”

“Believe me Jim, there was nothing you could have done to prevent this.”

Finally Jim looked at her.

“His immune system is compromised,” she continued.

“They’ve tested for HIV but he’s negative.”

“I know. That’s why I’ve been trying to reach you both for the last few days. I ran tests when you came to see me. His white count is abnormally low, and yours is low too and mine is down a little as well. The only thing we all have in common is the anti-virus.”

“Why aren’t we as ill as he is?”

“First of all our white counts are a lot higher than Blair’s. The only explanation I can come up with is he’s taken more of it than we have. I gave myself two injections. I gave you three and sent you off with a bottle, if you needed any more. How much is left in the bottle?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t touch it again. Can you stop it or reverse it?”

“Jim, I don’t even know if this is temporary or permanent. I really wish we had waited before trying it out on you.”

“You did want to wait, we were the ones who insisted,” Jim admitted. 

“Can you go and get the bottle please? I do need to know if he’s been taking more than us. If he hasn’t then it could be completely unrelated.”

Jim shook his head. “I’m not leaving him.” 

He took his keys from his pocket. 

“You go. We put it in the bathroom cabinet at the back.” He turned back, continuing his vigil over his partner.

 

Sarah felt like a burglar creeping into the loft but she easily found the bottle, tucked behind the host of natural remedies in the cabinet. The sight of the few drops left in the bottom had her scrabbling to feel the shelf. Was it wet? No. She sank down on the edge of the bath, her shaking legs not capable of supporting her. It was a fifty millilitre bottle, at three millilitres a shot, he must have taken well over fifteen extra doses. At least it proved her theory, the anti-virus worked, but the side-effects of over dosing killed the patients. Or would kill him, eventually, whilst the virus had few symptoms and, as far as she’d been able to tell, did little to interfere with both men living a normal life, which got her thinking hard about what she knew about that virus. To prove if she was on the right track she needed more information and the only man she could ask was Ellison.

 

“Jim, I need to know exactly how the virus affected you and Sandburg.”

Jim was staring at the empty bottle in his hands, totally mesmerised. He didn’t understand; why had Blair taken it all? Then the blindingly obvious occurred to him; Blair had kept on taking the anti-virus because the previous doses either hadn’t worked or had worn off. Irritably he scratched at his arm. Tell tale red streaks showed where he had been attacking his own skin since Sarah had left to go to the loft.

“Jim!”

He swallowed and kept his eyes on Sandburg. Did he have the right to do this?

“Jim, if you don’t tell me, I can’t help him.”

“I’m not sure you can help him. Packard told me he still isn’t fighting the infection and they can’t find an antibiotic he doesn’t have a bad reaction to.”

“How long?” Sarah asked, cutting straight to the chase.

“Maybe another day.” 

Sarah watched a lonely tear track over the few freckles on Jim’s face and get lost in his five o’clock shadow.

“Its sex related, isn’t it? You were lovers, that’s how you cross-infected each other?”

Jim’s startled gaze was her confirmation.

“The bonded virus has pheromone-like qualities,” she said.

Jim lowered his head and nodded slowly, as if he understood.

“He did this for me.”

“What do you mean?”

Jim held up the almost empty bottle. “I don’t think it worked on him at all. That’s why I think he kept on taking it.”

“Tell me.”

Ellison took a deep breath, turning the bottle over and over in his long fingers.

“Once we’d slept with each other we found we couldn’t…perform with anyone else, just each other. So Sandburg did a lot of research and found out there was a virus which could cause that exact problem but only very few people were affected by it. He wanted to let me have a free choice of who I slept with, not be held ransom by the virus.” Ellison went silent, his gaze shifting to his partner in the room beyond.

“You need to re-infect us, don’t you? Chemically tie us together again?” he asked.

“Your choice Jim.”

It wasn’t a choice as far as he was concerned, it was the only thing to do. Ellison didn’t hesitate.

“Do it!”

“What about Blair? He might not want that. In view of the fact he gave himself fifteen extra shots, it looks very much like he doesn’t want that.”

“I’ve got his medical power of attorney. I want you to re-infect us. What do you need?”

“I’ve got everything I need back at my lab.”

“Hurry.”

Sarah stood up and squeezed Ellison’s shoulder.

“If you believe in God, Jim, pray that Blair can hang on a little bit longer.”

 

Sarah whipped up a large batch of the original virus, which she’d extracted from the blood she’d taken before doing her research to find and synthesise the anti-virus. She split the liquid between two syringes and set off again for the hospital. The late afternoon traffic, snarled up around the usual hot spots, tried her patience to breaking point. She was almost crying with frustration when she got to the hospital car park.

She made her way quickly towards the clean room. A shaven headed black man, tears running down his face was leaving the area. His smart suited partner looked at her with wet rimmed eyes. 

‘Please God, don’t let me be too late,’ she prayed, her own eyes filling. 

Sarah saw Captain Banks sitting with Jim, a red haired man she didn’t know sitting on his other side. When Jim caught sight of her, he leaned forward and whispered something to Banks. Banks and the red-haired man stood up and walked away.  
Jim didn’t bother looking up when he heard Sarah come and quietly stand next to him looking at Blair.

“Do you have it?” Jim asked.

She nodded. “Has there been any change?”

“Only for the worse. What are you waiting for?” he hissed, as she still hesitated.

“Jim, this might kill him!” she said softly.

“If it doesn’t pneumonia will, or if by some miracle he survives that, the next infection will. What’s your professional prognosis, Doctor?”

Sarah sniffed again and wiped her eyes before replying,

“He’s dying.”

“If he’s going to die anyway, that isn’t going to make much difference but it might give him a chance,” Jim said quietly to her.

Still she hesitated.

“Give it to me!” he ordered quietly, holding his hand out for the syringe.

She shook her head.

“No, I’ll do it. They’ll notice you going in there, I’m just another Doctor.”

Quickly she went to the preparation room next door to the clean room and got changed, keeping the syringe with her. A few minutes later Jim saw her enter the clean room and make her way to Blair’s side. Without fuss she injected the full contents of the syringe into the IV port. Pausing to stroke his hair back, Jim heard her say quietly,

“I’m so sorry Blair, none of us meant for this to happen.”

Just as quietly she left and got changed, emerging to stand next to Jim. 

“You’re no where near as bad as Blair, but your immune system isn’t up to par either.  
You need to do this as well.”

Without a word he rolled up his sleeve and ripped off the plaster from the spot where Dr Packard had taken blood for the HIV test earlier. With shaking fingers she swabbed the spot and injected him then pocketed the syringe and sat down in one of the vacated chairs.

“How long?” Jim asked.

She shook her head.

“Maybe a couple of hours.”

A couple of hours before they would know if this was working. If it didn’t, Sandburg would die of pneumonia because his immune system was shot and he couldn’t fight the infection currently ravaging his body. A couple of hours before his own skin stopped its incessant itching.

Was this how it was going to end? Detective, junior grade, Blair Jacob Sandburg, official partner of Detective James Ellison, for all of five and a half months, unconscious and dying of pneumonia in a hospital bed. All for what? A desire to let Jim have a choice in who he slept with? 

Jim leaned forward again, resting his head against the glass, trying to get as physically close to his Guide as he could.  
Moving quietly for such a big man, Banks ghosted up and occupied the other chair next to Jim.

 

Al-Sadawe came and stood behind Ellison. He stared through the viewing portal at Sandburg, his face unreadable then he closed his eyes and began to pray silently. Before he left he put his hand on Ellison’s shoulder and said,

“Detective Sandburg is a good man, may Allah be merciful.”

Ellison barely heard him, Banks’ expression, however, told him exactly what he thought of his merciful Allah.

For the next hour various people came and stood behind Sarah, Ellison and Banks. They either whispered how very sorry they were to Ellison, or just stood and looked and didn’t say a word. Most left with tears in their eyes. It reminded Sarah of a state funeral, when the respectful file past the coffin of a well loved leader. Fascinating, from an anthropological point of view. It would have been even more fascinating had she been able to keep the tears from blurring her own vision. Over the same time period gradually Ellison stopped fidgeting and trying to take the skin off his arms. Suddenly his posture changed from one of depressed defeat to alert.

“His temperature is going up,” he said.

Banks looked at Ellison then back to Sandburg. 

“How do you know?” Sarah asked.

“Monitor, it’s recording temperature.” He didn’t bother to tell her he’d felt the change on his skin through the glass. He could also feel his guidesense coming back to him. It was like a thin tendril of smoke creeping through a quiet empty room but Jim welcomed even this tenuous reconnection with his Guide.

“That’s a good sign, believe it or not. He’s starting to fight the infection.”

Banks sighed in relief.

“He’s not out of the woods yet. If they can’t find an antibiotic he can tolerate, he’ll have to fight it on his own. It could still kill him,” Ellison said softly, trying not to get Simon’s hopes up in case they were dashed. 

Packard had already explained all the possible ways forward to Jim, giving him the opportunity to make his own choices. Surviving without Sandburg was not an option and he’d had several hours to make his plans. If Sandburg died he would wait until after the funeral, then request some leave and drive up to the mountains to one of their favoured spots, strip down to the bare minimum of clothing and he’d induce a zone. At this time of year it wouldn’t take too long for hypothermia to kill him.

The change in temperature brought a nurse into the clean room followed by a Doctor. Jim could tell it was Dr Packard.

“That guy works the same shifts as us,” Banks said, unconsciously echoing Jim’s thoughts.

Packard turned the heating blankets off and adjusted the saline drip. Jim heard him order another blood test then he left the clean room and reappeared a few minutes later.

“Jim, I’m trying to get hold of a new antibiotic. It’s ideal for respiratory infections but it’s still very new.” He didn’t add it was the last one before they ran out of options.

“When can you get it?” Jim asked.

“Should be within a couple of hours; it’s being flown in.”

Jim nodded.

A few minutes later Packard was back.

“His white count is going up,” he said as soon as he saw Jim. 

“How much?” Sarah asked.

Packard looked at Jim, questioningly.

“Dr Sarah Storrin, Dr Packard. She’s a friend of ours.”

Packard shook hands and turned the printout towards her.

“It’s a ten per cent increase on the last count. Could be a residual from the allergy attacks but as his temperature is going up too; he is fighting the infection.”

“Can he come out of the clean room?” Jim asked. 

“Not yet Jim,” Packard replied. “Look, as he’s shown a slight improvement, you can go in and sit with him for a while. You need to be wearing the suit, mask and hat though.”

Jim was heading towards the preparation room before the end of the sentence was out of his mouth.

“I take it that’s a yes, then,” Packard said, following.

 

Over the next two hours Sandburg’s fever continued to rise as did his white cell count. One thrilled Packard, the other worried him. He had the heating blankets switched to cooling to keep his temperature down and made continued phone calls to find out where his antibiotics were.

Jim sat by Sandburg’s bed talking softly to him all the time and wiping the sweat from his skin whilst Sandburg tossed and turned in his delirium.

“Remember that Blair, that nice sweet spot, the stream running past the end of the glade and the size of those trout?”

“No, can’t….. mustn’t. Jim. Can’t hurt Jim….”

“It’s OK Blair, I’m fine, you’re not hurting me.”

“Want that…. Keep him away… need this, need to stop this….. Incacha help him!”

Jim stopped talking and listened when he heard his Guide crying out to Incacha.

“Blair, can you see Incacha?”

“Incacha… wrong….. he says it’s wrong. No! For Jim, keep taking it for Jim.”

Sandburg was twisting and turning in a frenzy now. Not giving a hell that anyone looking through the viewing portal could see him, he sat on the edge of the bed and took Sandburg in his arms.

“It’s OK Blair, it’s OK,” he whispered over and over, rocking the other man like a frightened child. For a few seconds Sandburg opened his eyes and looked at him.

“Jim?” he croaked, his voice muffled through the oxygen mask.

“Hi little buddy,” he smiled down, forgetting Sandburg couldn’t see it through the mask.

“Is it Halloween?”

“You’re in hospital Blair. You’ve been sick.”

“Jim…”

The blue eyes closed and his moment of lucidity was gone. He seemed a little quieter. Jim got a sense it was partly because he was running out of energy and partly because he felt secure in his arms. He could also feel pain coming from Blair; a bone deep, aching lethargy. He didn’t question how he was receiving these impressions, he just acted on them. Jim waved through the glass at Banks trying to convey the message to get a Doctor. Simon sat up in his chair and looked puzzled. Jim pointed at Sarah then at Blair.

“He wants a Doctor in there,” Sarah said then louder, “You want a Doctor to come to you?” 

Jim nodded.

“I’ll go,” she said, putting her hand on Banks shoulder.

She had Packard paged and returned to the viewing portal.

“He’s on his way,” she said loudly. Jim nodded. Packard went past the viewing area a few minutes later and waved at Jim. He entered the preparation room closely followed by several members of the crash team. They brought packs of drugs which were subject to irradiation to sterilise them. Packard entered the clean room first.

“I’ve got the antibiotic.”

“He’s in pain,” Jim said, “Can you give him something?”

Packard didn’t enquire how Jim knew that, he just began preparing an injection, pushing it through the shunt.

Jim looked enquiringly at the stream of people entering the clean room.

“Given his track record with antibiotics, I’ve brought the crash team with me whilst we administer this one. You’ll need to put him down Jim, in case we have to work on him again.”

Gently Jim lowered Blair to the bed. The crash team had their equipment arranged around the bed ready for immediate use as Packard hung a small clear bag on the stand and inserted the needle.

Jim concentrated on Sandburg who flinched as the liquid began to run into his vein. Jim couldn’t sense more pain. The ache was beginning to dissipate under the analgesic Packard had administered. Jim tried to analyse the wisp of emotion but it faded.

“It will feel cold as it runs in, initially,” Packard explained, his eyes glued to the monitor.

That was it; surprise. Jim felt he had never been in clearer contact with his Guide, it was an amazing feeling even though he suspected the clear contact was because Sandburg’s control was non-existent. It would change when he became conscious. If he became conscious.

There was no further increase in lung noises and the skin around Sandburg’s eyes wasn’t swelling. After five minutes of running the drip very slowly, Packard gradually opened it until it was as wide as it could go. Sandburg started to quieten down. Before the monitors had picked it up, Jim knew his temperature was falling. He couldn’t tell whether it was the virus re-circulating through his body, the antibiotic or a combination of both. Within half an hour the bag was empty.

“He gets another one in two hours. If you need anything else call me,” Packard said, taking another blood sample and leaving Jim and Sandburg alone. 

Jim walked over to the glass front and gave Banks and Sarah the thumbs up.  
Banks smiled and then stoically accepted the hug Sarah gave him.

“You guys could do with some rest,” Jim said.

“So could you,” Banks retorted quite aware how little sleep Jim was surviving on.

“I’ll stay with him a little longer. Thanks guys.”

Even under the mask Banks and Sarah could tell Jim was grinning from ear to ear.

 

Within two days Packard had Blair moved out of the clean room. He had never seen a white cell count go up as fast as Sandburg’s had done. Blair spent most of that time drifting in and out of sleep. The third day he opened his eyes, mildly surprised that his eyelids didn’t feel like they had lead weights attached any more. He looked around recognising by smell, sight and sound that he was in a hospital bed. He felt reasonably good too. No pain, no weakness just a slowly growing feeling of well being.  
His right hand felt a little odd though. He turned his head to see his Sentinel fast asleep at the side of his bed, one of his hands fastened around Sandburg’s forearm the other under his head and he was drooling onto the back of Sandburg’s hand. His lips lifted in a smile.

“Your back is going to hurt like hell Jim,” he said softly, moving his hand and running it across Jim’s cheek. 

There was at least a week’s worth of beard under his fingers. He felt his own face and found the same level of growth. When his partner woke up he would be finding them a shaving kit, first thing.

 

Over the next week Blair slept more than usual but regained his strength quickly. Packard continued to be pleasantly surprised at his speed of progress.  
Jim hadn’t told Sandburg yet they’d had to re-infect him with the Sentinel-Guide virus. The day before Sandburg was released from hospital Jim was sitting with him watching TV and eating some of the fruit which their friends had brought in when he realised Blair was watching him rather than the television.

“What?” he asked.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You look happier than I’ve seen you look in months and you never stop touching me. Sarah’s seen you doing that and hasn’t said a word. So what’s been going on?”

“I don’t touch you that much,” Jim protested half heartedly.

For answer, Sandburg held up his hand, which had Jim’s fingers firmly entwined with his. Jim pulled his hand away as if it had been burned.

“Umm, sorry.”

“You shave me everyday, you brush my hair, help me wash, you seem to have to touch some part of me all the time.”

“Sorry Sandburg,” Jim said, looking crestfallen. “Didn’t realise it was bothering you.”

“I didn’t say it was bothering me. I just want to know what’s changed. I know, and I don’t know how, that you’re keeping something from me.”

Jim found the bedcovers suddenly extremely interesting. He had hoped he could wait a while longer before he had to tell his partner what he’d done.

“Well?”

Jim cleared his throat before saying,  
“Sarah knows it doesn’t matter any more about us cross-infecting each other again.”

“I’d figured that one out on my own. I want to know why.”

Jim took a deep breath.

“I told her to re-infect you with the virus.”

Sandburg was totally silent watching his partner.

“You’d taken so much of the anti-virus it knocked out your immune system. It was killing you, I couldn’t let that happen.”

Sandburg’s unnerving silence continued.

“I’m sorry Blair, I know you wanted a different life and I know you’ve already given up so much for me, but I couldn’t sit back and watch you die.”

“And each time I do, you bring me back,” Sandburg said, finally shifting his gaze away from Jim.

Jim flushed.

“Sarah knows how we really got the virus?”

Jim nodded. 

“She’d more or less worked it out for herself. She told me the strongest concentration is in our semen, it acts like a pheromone at those levels.”

Sandburg carried on staring at the ceiling.

“Do you want me to go?” he finally asked.

Sandburg nodded.

Jim stood up with a heavy heart.

“Goodnight Sandburg,” he said sadly, collecting his coat.

“See you tomorrow Jim,” Sandburg replied crisply.

 

Jim arrived early to collect Sandburg from the hospital. He’d been dreading this all night. Sandburg was going to leave him because of what he’d done. What he’d had to do to save his life, he corrected himself. Not that he could really blame him. Sandburg was young, good-looking, had a good career ahead of him and would want to share that with a wife and a family.

Sandburg was ready for him, his glasses on as he finished signing the last of his discharge papers. They said their goodbyes and shook hands with the staff.  
Apart from a half smile at him, Blair was quiet all the way down to the car park and remained so when they climbed into the truck for the trip home.  
They were passing the park when Sandburg suddenly said,

“Jim, pull up here.”

He did as he was asked. As soon as he’d parked, Sandburg hopped out of the truck.

“Come on, Jim,” he said, already walking along one of the paths.

Jim made haste to follow him. He couldn’t sense much of anything from his Guide. The only time he had been able to really sense emotion and sensation was when Sandburg was unconscious, just after the injection of virus which re-infected them both. 

Easily keeping to Sandburg’s pace Ellison followed as he led them deeper into the park. It wasn’t very warm and Jim was worried about Blair getting a chill. Blair slowed and sat on a bench opposite a set of children’s swings. He sat as if he were watching children playing there, even though it was too cold and there weren’t any children around. The silence grated on Jim, which was unusual.

“I’m sorry Blair, I didn’t know what else to do,” Jim said quietly, “I know you wanted another life, to not always be tied to me and I’m so sorry I can’t get that for you…..”

“Do you love me,” Blair interrupted.

“Yes,” Jim replied without hesitation.

“What about your future, Jim? You wanted another life too. A wife, a family.”

Jim shrugged. 

“Might have been nice.”

Sandburg nodded at his reply and the tone.

“If you aren’t that bothered why did we go to all this trouble?” Sandburg asked.

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” Jim said slowly, wondering when the other shoe would drop. “It is what you wanted, right?”

Sandburg shrugged.

“Might have been OK, at some unspecified point in the future. I wasn’t hankering after a wedding and a houseful of kids.”

They were both silent.

“What was it like for you?” Blair asked. “When we couldn’t touch.”

“Like I’d had my right arm cut off,” Jim replied instantly. “Even when I could… you know…. with women again, I felt so disconnected from you.”

“Disconnected? Were you having any zones you weren’t telling me about?”

Jim nodded. “Yeah, quite a few.”

“How long did they last?”

“Hours, some of them. You?”

“I still couldn’t…. with anyone,” he said, apparently finding the view absorbing.

“That’s why you took so much of the stuff?”

“No. I took that because my skin itched.”

“What?”

“Every time you touched me, not through my clothes, my skin itched all over. Another injection soothed it.”

“Itched like you could rip it off in shreds quite happily?”

Sandburg nodded. “You had that too?”

“When you were in hospital, I had it for a few hours. Drove me crazy.”

Blair nodded. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“You put up with that for months?”

Blair nodded again.

Ellison was starting to see some light at the end of the tunnel. He cleared his throat nervously again and asked,

“So, do you love me?”

“You have to ask?” Sandburg replied still not looking at him.

They were both silent for a couple of minutes before Sandburg spoke again.

“So, we’ve established we love each other, neither of us is anxious to stand under the canopy and start a family with anyone else, we’ve put ourselves through hell for months. It nearly killed me, and Sarah feels as guilty as sin over that and for what?”

Jim didn’t have an answer.

“I’ll tell you why that happened, Jim, it’s because we didn’t talk to each other. Two stupid, pig-headed men who each think they know what’s best for the other without bothering to ask.”

Jim’s lips quirked up as he stared down at his shoes. His Blair had a way with words and the truth.

“So, you ready to start being partners in all senses of the word?” Blair asked, looking into Jim’s face for the first time since he’d sat on the bench.

“You asking?” Ellison replied, looking into Sandburg’s blue eyes, his hard tone belaying the softness in his eyes.

“I’m asking.”

“What took you?” Ellison asked, with a straight face.

Blair finally smiled and thumped Ellison’s shoulder. Ellison put his arm around the shorter man and stood up.

“Come on short stuff, let’s go home.”

“Enough of the short stuff!”

 

The journey to the loft wasn’t particularly filled with conversation but the quiet was calm and companionable. Ellison was pleased that for once the lift was working so Blair didn’t have to immediately start his rehabilitation with three flights of stairs. Blair was ushered to the sofa and sat down. Ellison had started the fire before he’d left for the hospital, so the room was warm. He added more coal and wood then went into the kitchen to prepare tea for Sandburg, coffee for himself and an early lunch. After they’d eaten Ellison could see Sandburg’s eyes beginning to droop. He pushed his Guide down so he was laying full length.  
“Want to be with you,” Blair muttered.  
After a little manoeuvouring Ellison squeezed in behind Sandburg, his back against the back of the sofa, and his front plastered to Sandburg’s back. He put one arm over Sandburg’s waist and pulled the cushions to the right positions so Sandburg could sleep and he could watch television with the sound turned down low. Lastly he pulled the afghan over them both. In reality Ellison spent more time soaking himself in the feel and smell of his Guide than watching television. Between his lack of sleep from the night before, the warmth of the room and the soothing presence of his Guide in his arms, it wasn’t long before Ellison was asleep too.

 

Pressure of his bladder woke Ellison. As he opened his eyes he saw Blair had turned over to face him and was also awake. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to cover his lips with his own. It started as a gentle just awake kiss but quickly escalated into fire and passion, until the pressure got too much for Jim. He groaned and pulled away.

“Jim?”

He closed his eyes.

“Sorry Sandburg, gotta pee!”

He scrambled over the back of the sofa to the bathroom. When he returned the sofa was empty, the afghan folded neatly over the back again.

“Blair?”

A movement from his bedroom caught his eye. Sandburg peering down at him, his eyes alight with mischief. Ellison needed no second bidding. He took the stairs two at a time. The sight at the top took his breath away. His Guide sprawled out, naked, on top of the bed was as good an invitation as Ellison had ever seen and one he wasted no time in accepting. Dropping his clothes anywhere, his leap onto the bed had Blair giggling in appreciation at his ardour until Jim’s tongue got in the way of his laughter. Instead of being the light-hearted, gentle love-making Blair had half planned it became an earnest race to see who could get inside the other’s skin first. Blair had never felt so turned on so fast in his life, he was dizzy with the sudden rush of his blood heading South.  
Ellison was murmuring,

“Want you, love you, need you….” as he tried to cover every inch of Sandburg’s skin with kisses.

“Inside, want you in me,” Blair gasped, his hands and lips sucking and grasping Jim, sliding over sweat dampened skin. “Now!”

“Me, want you in me, please Blair, please!”

Blair pulled Jim to his knees, not stopping kissing him. He knew, given his enforced abstinence, he wasn’t going to last long. Having already secreted the lube under the pillow he squirted a large dollop onto Jim’s hand, and did the same with himself. Kneeling up and preparing each other at the same time was the strangest feeling. Fingers entering and sliding in dark, slick, warm places; feeling fingers scissor and stretch inside as he was stretching the other. Not knowing where one began and the other ended. Blair didn’t even waste time with words, he pushed against Jim who fell backwards on the bed then Sandburg entered him in one long surge. 

Jim’s back arched; he was tight and it burned but he wasn’t about to suggest stopping, or going slow. He needed this; they both needed this. Fast and hard and now!  
Blair came with his fingers digging into Jim’s back muscles and his teeth biting down on the tendons of his neck. 

Jim held him tight as he shuddered and jerked through his orgasm then finally softened enough to slip from his body. Swiftly swapping position he rolled them until Blair was underneath him, one ankle on his shoulder the other around his waist and then he was sliding into warm velvet finally inside and all around his Guide where he was meant to be. At the back of his mind a stone cold sober police officer and medic was pronouncing that this kind of action wasn’t good for someone just a few hours our of hospital and reminding him in louder tones that neither of them had used a condom. The lust frenzied Sentinel ignored the voices and drove deeper into his Guide, grunting as he buried himself and filled Blair with his seed yelling his pleasure until he thought the top of his head would explode. He wasn’t sure what state Blair was in but he could feel his strength and consciousness deserting him. He just about managed to pull the duvet over them both before wrapping himself around Sandburg and following him into deep sleep.

 

The telephone was ringing but Jim was just too comfortable and warm to even think about answering it. The answer machine kicked in recording Simon’s gruff tones in a short and to the point message before it clicked off again. He had vague recollections of hearing the telephone ringing before but wasn’t really sure. He was feeling far too content to even bother wondering what Simon wanted. The warm body lying partially on him moved.

/Warm/happy/held/ being held/

Jim frowned trying to work out the sensations coursing through him.

/Question/slight back ache/smell of Jim/smell of Blair/content/right/

‘Blair?’

‘Mmmm’

‘Can you hear me?’

‘Course I can hear you.’ 

Sandburg felt gentle pressure of a kiss on his lips and at the same time he heard, 

‘You really can hear me?’

Blair opened his eyes in surprise then closed them again as vertigo and nausea nearly overcame him. Double vision but not double vision as when he was tired and needed his glasses, double vision as from seeing from two different points in space.

‘Keep your eyes closed, that’s going to take getting used to.’

Blair agreed. 

‘Jim?’ 

‘Yeah.’

‘What’s happening?’

A rush of memories came into Blair’s mind. The very first time they’d made love, the echo of sensation on each other’s bodies which wore off after a few minutes.

‘Think we added vision and speech to that,’ Jim’s voice in his mind.

A sense of amazement, interest and how to test how far this ability stretched came at Jim from Blair.

‘Woah Junior. Slow down.’

‘Exciting! Jim!’

Jim smiled, at the same time uncomfortably aware that the sensations weren’t dying away.

‘You think we’re stuck with this?’ Blair thought then immediately afterwards, ‘How the hell are we going to be able to work?’

Jim went silent. His face creasing into a look of concentration. Blair saw an array of images: a set of old-fashioned radio dials, each one labelled not with words but with the feeling and emotion associated with each sense; vision, touch - set slightly above halfway, hearing, taste, smell. Another dial began to form, slightly away from the others. This one was labelled warmth, safety, contentment, spicy/herbal scent, overwhelming love, colour blue. The dial began to turn down, as it inched around the scale he got the idea.

Concentrating on putting a dial together and labelling it Jim wasn’t as easy as it sounded but finally he had it and began turning the dial down towards zero.

“Better?” Jim’s voice rumbled against him.

Blair nodded and risked opening his eyes. Only his own visuals reported into this brain.

“Wow! That was intense.”

Jim nodded. By unspoken agreement they rearranged themselves from the foot of the bed to the head then Blair decided he needed the bathroom. 

Jim looked at his watch as Blair headed downstairs and got a shock at the time. They’d been sleeping for over twenty one hours. He could hear Blair in the bathroom and started to turn up the Guide dial. Then an even better idea occurred to him. Instead of one dial he formulated five more, all of them labelled with Blair’s senses. Cautiously he turned up touch. The sensation was just as intense as it had been when they’d awoke, and he knew Blair had just washed his hands and was drying them. Turning that dial down, he then twitched up smell. Water, herbal soap, smell of sex and sweat. Showing his teeth in a smile Jim could see the advantages of this one. Putting everything back down to zero he waited for Blair to come back to bed, which he did carrying two bottles of water.  
Once they’d drank their fill Jim put his arm around Blair, Blair’s head resting comfortably on the hollow of his shoulder and explained what he wanted Blair to do.  
Concentrating heavily Blair did as Jim instructed.

“You got that?”

He nodded, eyes still closed. 

“Never thought I’d hear myself saying this but dial them all down to zero.”

Blair grinned and said, 

“Not sure I can deal with vision just yet, Jim.”

“Don’t worry about that one for now. I have a feeling we’re going to be doing a lot of work controlling this.”

“What brought it on as strongly as this?” Blair mused out loud.

“I hope you were really serious when you said partners from now on.”

“Of course I was,” Blair replied, his eyes opening.

“Good, because we forgot to use condoms!”

“Ah!”

“Ah,” Jim repeated.

“And Sarah said….”

“…the virus is most concentrated in semen,” Jim completed for him. “Now close your eyes again. OK, turn up my touch dial to about halfway,” Jim said doing the same to the dial in his head labelled Blair touch. 

Delicately he brushed the end of his finger along the hollow of Blair’s hip. Both men shuddered and gasped at the unbelievably erotic double sensation of a ghostly finger trailing across their skin.  
Jim’s eyes shone.

“Now these are the kinds of tests I’m going to enjoy,” he said, zeroing in on Blair’s lips with both touch dials set to halfway.

Blair moaned in agreement already thinking of a few tests they could be getting on with!


End file.
